Reinventing The Exit
by DrizztsAngel
Summary: What are the chances a Soul Reaper could remember her time with the Living? And just how tightly can fate intertwine two souls? Renji/OC
1. Memories of Somebody

**A/N: I realized belatedly that my timeline was just a ...smidgen... off. I am tweaking this story to prevent anyone from A) getting confused and/or B) calling me an idiot. Yes, I **_**am **_**an idiot. But it verification is just painful. This fic will be set in the future (how far is your guess) instead of "present day", thereby not defying the space-time continuum and possibly rupturing the universe as we know it. Yes, my words have **_**that **_**much power. Mwah ha ha. ^.^**

_Soul Society_. *In the _future_*

The rumors began a week ago. At first, a new captain would be joining the ranks of the Gotei 13. Then came the tales of her eerie beauty and the vast amount of tattoos she supposedly sported. Renji decided immediately that he liked her.

Yesterday, Yumichika approached him with the newly spun proclamation that, believe it or not-and Renji _did_ have a problem believing this one-she was Komamura's _daughter_.

_She was human._

Today, standing in front of the Captain Commander's high-office door with Byakuya, awaiting the arrival of this fabled minx, Renji found himself more curious about the validity of Seireitei rumors than he thought he'd ever been in his entire life.

A raised voice came from the opposite side of the office door; undoubtedly Komamura's roar of protest-over what, Renji wasn't certain-and the door swung open unceremoniously as Komamura's daunting form stalked from the room. Byakuya simply stepped aside, allowing the intimidating captain passage as he bellowed through the pair, grazing Renji's elbow and knocking him off balance. Had Renji been paying the slightest bit of attention to the huge captain, he would have easily side-stepped the accidental brush; however, Renji's eyes were glued to the only other occupant of the office besides the Captain Commander: a woman he could only imagine was the legendary "Komamura's Daughter."

She _was_ human…or at least, _appeared_ to be. The only tell-tale sign of her lineage being the fleshy points at the tips of her ears, slightly hidden under tufts of ill-cut blonde hair. It was cropped close to her scalp, obviously riddled with heavy curls, and ingloriously, wonderfully, messy. Renji decided immediately, he liked her.

Her skin bronzed from entirely too much time in the sun; curls of ink from what appeared to be some kind of vine-work peaked from the collar of her haori, climbing effortlessly up the side of her neck from her shoulder. The blindingly white haori displayed the kanji for "14" on her back and Renji realized with a start that her shinigami robes were not black like everyone else's in Seireitei. They were just as pristine and white as her captain's robe.

Byakuya recovered his place at Renji's side and gracefully entered the Captain Commander's office, looking behind him once to gain his fukutaicho's attention and Renji hastened to his captain's side. The old man acknowledged their presence and gestured that she should be escorted out with the sixth division pair. It became glaringly obvious that Komamura's previous ire had been at her when her nose turned to the air and she spun on her heel, stalking past the duo and leaving the room in a quick flash-step.

Byakuya turned to Renji and with naught but an imperceptible raise of an eyebrow, turned and followed after her, leaving Renji standing in front of the most powerful man in Soul Society-alone.

All of this was retold with gusto and minor embellishments at the gathering later that evening. The usual culprits decided to get together at the local drinking hole and amid many sips of sake and occasional bites of dinner, Renji recounted the events of that day. Though truthfully, he did not get a very good look at the woman earlier, it did not stop him from giving a vivid account of her beauty and the longing gazes that were surreptitiously exchanged between the two of them. Of course Iba, Ikkaku, Yumichika and the others knew for a fact that Renji was blowing smoke up their proverbial skirts because they had each heard a version of the story from their respective captains that came straight from the report of Byakuya Kuchiki.

"Are you sure her ears were…_pointy_?" Iba hiccuped, and Renji nodded so vigorously that he nearly shook the sake bottle off the table.

"I swear on my honor! She was pointy-eared!"

The others shook their heads in wonder because none truly knew if they could believe the red-head. And _all_ of them were so drunk that no one noticed when the object of their combined curiosities waltzed right by their table with Rangiku, Rukia, Nemu, and Nanao in tow.

The ladies sat a few tables behind the guys' table, heedless of the boisterous guffaws and clanging coming from said direction. Nanao had met the newcomer-Yuuki-some hours before, and at the behest of her captain invited her out to dinner with some of the girls to get her better acquainted. Rangiku, Rukia and Nemu were all she could find at such short notice, but each equally eager to accompany Nanao in the pursuit of making a new friend…_or hearing a tasty piece of gossip, or answering some very tantalizing questions…_Nanao thought.

They settled in and ordered sake and sushi, and surprise, surprise! The first presumptuous question came from none other than Rangiku Matsumoto's perfectly painted lips:

"Is Komamura _really_ your father!"

Yuuki leveled her gaze at the larger woman and Nanao would have bet a thousand paychecks at that moment that the petite taicho could break Rangiku's neck with a single right hook. The sake bottles arrived at that precise moment-sparing Matsumoto's life, Nanao was sure-and after pouring herself a liberal amount, Yuuki looked at the voluptuous blonde again.

"You get away with saying pretty much anything you want, huh?" Yuuki's voice was low and gravelly but it had a music to it. Nanao suddenly found herself wondering if Yuuki sang.

Matsumoto tipped her chin in the air and after a thoughtful second, nodded animatedly.

Yuuki shook her head and a smile slid across her features. Rukia and Nemu watched in stunned silence, for they assumed the same thing Nanao had at first-that Yuuki could and would quite easily snap the woman's neck.

"Yes, Komamura is my father. My mother was human. That's all I can divest at this time. Now may I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely!" Rangiku agreed, taking a draw from her sake cup.

"Why is everyone so damned concerned with my parentage and no one has yet to ask me which division I'm to captain-or where I came from? Or even, 'What's with the tattoos?'"

Rukia finally spoke up to the last comment. "Actually, the tattoos aren't all that uncommon around here; we have two other seated shinigami that are very heavily tattooed. And, well, every one fancies they already know the answers to the rest, I suppose."

Yuuki nodded thoughtfully, recalling her brush with the sixth division captain and his vice-captain with the wild red hair and the facial tattoos. "The sixth division captain…what's his name?"

"Oh-that's Byakuya Kuchiki-my brother!" Rukia supplied happily. "And his fukutaicho is my best friend Renji!"

"Well, in that case, your brother is the most beautiful man I've ever seen…." Yuuki volunteered as she took another long draw of sake. "Renji, huh?"

"Yeah, usually he's drinking with _me_," Rangiku pouted, pointing in the direction of the table of men who had, surprisingly enough, quieted down quite a bit. Yuuki glanced over her left shoulder at the guys who had, for one reason or another, thrown their arms around each other and were swaying from side to side. She had to fight back a shout of laughter. Oh, the evils of liquor!

"When you say 'friend'…"

"I really mean just a friend," Rukia replied, her cheeks warming a little. "I think he used to have something…for me…but I doubt he still looks at me the same now."

Yuuki nodded thoughtfully and took another swallow of sake, remembering the way his eyes had cut through her that morning…and knowing distantly that she _knew_ those hazel orbs from her past. "Did you reciprocate this…_something_?" she asked off-handedly, not really expecting a negative. Rukia was petite, gorgeous, noble…what could Renji _not_ find attractive? On the flip-side, he was obviously a bad-boy; tribal tattoos, outrageous red hair, sexy…how could Rukia deny that?

Surprisingly, she shook her head slowly, her cup of sake forgotten in her hand. "I never really thought about him that way. We grew up together-I always had a sort of brother complex with him, I suppose. Little punks on the street…stealing to survive and watching each others' backs…guess I never saw him as anything else. Now he's this big, oversexed rebel…and I still can't see much in him!"

Everyone laughed and toasted Renji-the big, oversexed rebel-and downed another round of liquor.

The sushi trays were taken away and replaced, the sake bottles were ushered from the table and refilled, and generally the ladies were getting along famously. At some point, Iba's voice lifted above the din of the tavern and exclaimed, "Renji? That her?" and Yuuki caught a confused expression pass over Rangiku's face for a moment. For a split second, Yuuki assumed Matsumoto had just discovered she was drunk-Yuuki got the same expression herself when she occasionally realized she'd had too much-but she glanced cautiously over her shoulder and caught the blatant finger pointed in her general direction.

She hastily spun back around, wishing desperately she could fit under the table, but that would probably cause an even bigger scene than what was bound to erupt. Rukia's eyes grew even larger, if that were possible; Nanao paused in mid-sip of her drink; Matsumoto's confusion lessened, but there was still a look of _distance _in her eyes; Nemu's blank expression did not change. Yuuki slowly straightened her shoulders and sat a little taller in her seat. She was a captain! She didn't have to acknowledge this effrontery! But she felt the stares at the back of her head. And one in particular felt as though it was burning a hole through her skull. She plastered a patient smile on her face and turned to meet them head on.

Two tables away-with no customers in between, for it was very late and most had already left-she met the gazes of her drunken comrades. Ikkaku was lost somewhere between their table and hers, judging from the glassy look in his eyes; Yumichika seemed as though he really could care less about her presence, as he was carefully studying his manicured nails; Iba's ever-present sunglasses hid any damage the liquor had done to his eyes-however it did not hide the thin strand of saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth. Yuuki shuddered.

Her eyes locked with Renji's. He looked utterly, painfully…sober. He stared at her as if he recognized her; not from this morning, but from some distant time and place that neither of them could remember. She realized with a start that his eyes were the most beautiful emerald green in this torch-lit tavern and his haori was open to his waist revealing a mass of tribal markings across his chest and stomach. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. She didn't understand why. She knew she was studying him with the same zealous stupor that he trained on her but she couldn't tear her eyes away. His friends carried on around him as if he weren't mesmerized by the flaxen beauty a few feet away. She turned back to her table first-cheeks flushed as if she'd overheated, hand reflexively at her throat. The women wondered at her, heads cocked, confused.

"I don't know what just happened," Yuuki whispered.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Rangiku's beautiful mouth. "I do."

Iba finally grabbed Renji's shoulder and spun him around to face the table. "Dude? You okay?"

Renji blinked, reached for his sake cup and nodded. "Yeah…kinda spaced out there for a sec." He relieved the cup of the last of its contents and reached for the bottle.

"So…is that her?" Iba pressed.

Another nod. Another gulp of liquor. And the sickening feeling in his stomach of déjà-vu-that he knew her from his past; that he knew her from his _life._

Yuuki awoke with a start. Clutching the thin sheets over her body she sat bolt upright on the futon drenched in sweat, her pulse racing madly in her chest. She'd had the most frightening dream but the more she tried to grasp at it, the more rapidly it eluded her memory. There were massive crashes, explosions as if bombs were being dropped from the air; a great hysteria around her, a sadness that pained her heart. The large city around her had been quickly reduced to rubble. There had been a man in a strange black uniform, an Iron Cross at his throat. His hair had been frightfully red. His eyes had been startlingly green.

There was a light tapping on the wood frame of her shoji and it slowly slid open a fraction; Komamura's gold eye shined in the dark as he peered through the crack.

"You shouted. Are you alright?"

"Yes Father. I'm fine…I had a nightmare, I suppose."

Let it be said that even a "man" with a wolf's face can smile. Komamura Sajin's mouth turned up at one corner as he slipped through the door into his daughter's room. He settled down next to her sleeping pallet and placed one huge hand over hers. "Your mother was better at this than I am," he began, his thumb slowly stroking the top of her hand. He sighed. "She would have known what to say-to do. She probably wouldn't have taken the news of your promotion to captain class well, however." The smile grew ever so slightly. "She worried about you a lot."

Yuuki nodded, wishing her mother was there; wishing that wishing would bring her back. She turned her hand over under Sajin's and curled her fingers around his giant palm. "Do you have dreams of the living world, Father?"

The huge head shook back and forth twice. "Not that I can remember. You know, its extremely unlikely, but there is a chance you are dreaming of your life as you led it then. One in a million can remember the living world. I would imagine that people like you-with enormous spiritual powers-would have a better chance."

"What's the possibility that someone from the Gotei 13...wound up in Seireitei at the same time I did?"

"Well, I suppose they'd have to go _somewhere_. We all came from earth and we all wind up here. When this life for us is over, we disperse into spirit particles and begin anew. I've heard many stories about people reincarnating with one another lifetime after lifetime. Sometimes whole families repeatedly end up with one another again and again. So, that, in effect, doesn't sound too unlikely."

Yuuki yawned and nodded; leaned over to her father and wrapped her arms as tightly around his neck as she could. "I'm sorry about earlier today. I shouldn't have been so callous to you-especially in front of Grandpa."

Sajin chuckled. "Grandpa" was Captain-Commander Yamamoto-the man who'd taken him into the squads when Sajin himself was but a child. He alone had known of Sajin's secret marriage centuries ago; of this beautiful woman-child that he and his wife had borne. She had passed long ago and Yuuki had been sent to the other side of Soul Society to an academy out of the ways of prying eyes and suspicions. Komamura was very glad she looked more like her human mother than himself.

"Yamamoto only scolded me a little," he assured her, helping her arrange her sheets as she laid back against the pillow. "Rest and do not let this trifle you. Have better dreams." He leaned and pressed his muzzle into her soft hair; she was already fast asleep.

Berlin, Germany 1939.

Evelyn Yukimura walked as quickly and as gracefully as one could possibly walk in shoes as tall and uncomfortable as the ones she currently had on. They clicked unmercifully against the dark-stained wood of the floor beneath her feet and she distantly wondered if she were leaving tracks behind her down the hallway. She brushed past a tall man in an SS uniform; not an uncommon sight in Hitler's "palace". She didn't give it much thought anymore-the drab surroundings filled with drab people in drab uniforms. If that was what made the fuehrer's clock tick, so be it. She was here by choice, not by force. And as long as her cover held up, she hoped against hope that she'd be the one that knifed the little bastard in his sleep.

Around another corner she veered, past yet more soldiers in those ridiculously _drab_ uniforms; her speed taking its toll on her abused feet. She'd been doing this for months-interning so to speak-for the fuehrer himself. She got lucky, she supposed. Someone had found her in London, very well educated, part Japanese thanks to her father; they had assumed she'd been sympathetic to the Nazi cause. Little did they know her father was as big an English patriot as they came, thanks to _his_ father-an Japanese soldier who'd fallen in love with a English woman; her father still worshipped in the Shinto shrine in the basement of their family home. Her mother had died in childbirth and Evie had found herself in the midst of an anti-Nazi assembly shortly after Hitler had announced himself the dictator of Germany and waged war against the world. So when approached by a man in-yes, one of those _drab_ uniforms-and asked to come back to Berlin with him she agreed before she'd much thought about the consequences. The first idea that came flittering down from her consciousness was that maybe-_just maybe_-she would single-handedly infiltrate the Nazi party and bring the whole get up down around her feet in ashes!

_Kami! My feet!_ She was never so grateful to see the enormous oak-paneled doors before her. Behind those doors she could sit! In a plush Victorian-style chair before a huge mahogany desk and, true, she would have to withstand _his_ presence while she was in there; but for a seat-she could do that.

She was distantly aware of a person standing behind her as she lifted her hand to knock against the wood. She did not expect the black sleeved arm to reach around her to pound on the door in her stead. She must've spent too much time daydreaming about that chair, she thought. She turned a little to see who it was and out of the corner of her eye she caught two things: the reddest hair she'd ever seen; not orange or auburn as most red-heads were, but actually _red_-and peering out of the corner of his eye at her, she saw dazzling green orbs measuring her up from head to painful little toe! She wanted to rail at him for looking at her the way he was, but she realized with a start that she was sizing him up in the exact same fashion. He stood nearly a head over her, even with the lift of her four-inch heels, and under the tightly fitted black SS garb he was obviously powerfully built. His hair, though shocking in its color, was slicked neatly back from his forehead, close cropped at the nape and he was clean shaven. A red Iron Cross winked in the folds of his collar. She realized with a start that he was a high ranking member of the RSHA who dealt personally with the safety of important members of the Reich. The medallions on his lapel gave testament.

He cracked a lazy half-grin at her and turned back to the door, taking a step up to stand levelly with her when it opened. "What's your name fraulein?" he asked, not so much as glancing at her-and he said it so quietly she nearly missed it!

With a defiant tilt of her chin she answered, cocking her head slightly in his direction, "Evelyn. And that's all you need to know."

The large door finally swung open with a great groan of the wood and he nearly laughed out loud as he stepped inside the office of Adolph Hitler.

Hours later still found Evie pouring over some personal accounts of the fuehrer's but delightfully tucked away in a plushy wing back chair. The red-headed officer paced back and forth a few feet away carrying on a heated but barely audible discussion with another officer in a gray uniform much like his own. The fuehrer himself sat before a canvas in the distant corner giddily slapping paint over it in his attempt to make some feasible act of art-for which Evie had never been fond of and he had pushed several pieces on her and insisted she hang them in the room he provided for her in the house. She often wondered if the man was not _damaged_ in some way; some inkling of pity often overtook her senses. It was more often than not replaced by a turbulent rage for one or more of his heinous crimes. She smiled prettily at him when he glanced at her, tucking a stray piece of her own blond hair behind her ear and bit her tongue. _One day,_ she mused, _I'll bite it off…._

She was caught off guard when the red-headed officer suddenly loomed over her, a smirk imbedded on his face. _His devastatingly handsome face,_ she admitted reluctantly.

"Wanna go with me for a bite?" he asked, the grin on his face telling her that he fully expected a "No" but would settle for nothing less than an affirmative.

She flipped the account folders in her lap shut and uncrossed her legs, letting the blood flow back to her toes. She quirked an eyebrow at him and setting the documents aside, gracefully expanded her hand, palm down, waiting for him to help her to her feet. _If they start hurting again, though, he's giving me a piggy-back ride home!_ she thought.

Over sandwiches and bisque in a cafe near the city square, Evie decided a little sadly that she liked him. The idea never occurred to her that one could find similar ground to stand on with one's enemy. Of course, _he _didn't know she was a covert agent. He only assumed that they were two strangers sharing close cultural ties and having an intimate lunch together. Her mind raced along throughout the meal about the dangers of getting too close to her enemies; going native, as it were. She fought with herself over her attraction to the man in uniform.

"So, you're buying me lunch...you haven't even introduced yourself," she started, lifting the little steaming cup

of tea the waiter had brought to her lips. He smiled that cocky half-smile again and leaned back against his chair.

"Himura. Himura Eberhardt." He immediately looked offended when Evie lifted her hand and giggled behind it.

"I'm so sorry! I'm not laughing because I don't like it! I just think it's such a strangely _fitting _name for you!"

"Which one?"

"Well, Himura means scarlet and I can't think of anything better..." she trailed off, pointing a finger to his wildly red hair. "As for Eberhardt...I don't think I know you well enough to judge on that count!"

"Give me time, fraulein, and I shall prove it to you," he replied arrogantly.


	2. A Reintroduction

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. Unfortunately, I have life that—try as I may—cannot be avoided. Hopefully, I'll hit some inspiration soon and be able to sit down and type like a madwoman. Also, forgive any grammatical errors you may see. I do not have a beta and even though I majored in English, everyone makes mistakes. Oh, and thanks for reading!**

Soul Society.

As were her customs, Yuuki practiced alone, bathed alone, ate alone. She hadn't been privy to an audience at her academy on the outskirts of Soul Society and as such she was not comfortable having an audience here in Seireitei. She had made an exception for breakfast because her father had insisted upon joining her; truthfully, she enjoyed his presence—he seemed to soothe the aches that last night's dreams had left in her mind. Bits and pieces of the dream still stirred up emotions deep within her soul that she could not quite comprehend. She understood that she was the young blond girl, of course, and that the man who'd called himself "Himura" must be with whom she was confusing this Renji person. After all, in the dream the only difference had been his hair and tattoos—or lack there of. That gleaming cocky smile had been his, she was sure of it; the amber eyes with flecks of gold, the tan skin, the tall, powerful build...her face was flushing with the memory and she'd never even spoken to the man first-hand!

Yuuki bent at the waist, her fingers dangling in the grass, feeling the burn of the muscle stretching behind her legs. The bureaucracy was still trying to decided whether or not to place her in an unfilled captain's position or go ahead and open up a new squad altogether. She had been a captain where she'd came from and it had taken nearly a century to have her transfer filed alone, nevermind shipping an entire squadron across the expanse of Soul Society and plunging them into the hectic life of Seireitei. She had offered to step down—after all her move was because she missed her father, not because of any real obligations or strife with her organization. There were still three open positions within the Gotei 13 after the Winter War but offers and negotiations and other bureaucratic steps were still being taken to ensure that the remaining vice-captains of those squads received a fair outcome; perhaps they would step up to position as captain. Perhaps those like Kira and Hinamori who she had met earlier that day would prefer to remain in their current positions. She had yet to meet the infamous Hisagi but from reputation, she imagined he'd make a very good captain.

She had completed her warm up stretches in peace and headed back to the sakura tree to retrieve the bow-staff she'd propped there. She distantly wondered if she was the only one to ever use this small clearing in which to practice. She'd stumbled across it after breakfast and after meditating and warming up there, she'd yet to see another person. Perhaps she had imagined that strange shift in the air a moment ago...

She quickly worked herself through some base routines with the weapon, then began working her way up to more advanced movements. She whirled and whipped through the air like a leaf on a windy day, dancing and swinging and swirling the bow-staff about herself as if it were an extension of her own body. Pivot here, parry there; swipe left and feint right. She worked herself into quite a sweat and paused for only a moment in her movements to untie sash at her waist and allow the top of her haori to fly open. With a shrug she discarded the offending garment and with the tip of her bow-staff she flung it at the base of the sakura tree where the rest of her belongings lay. It landed neatly atop her captain's robe and she immediately began again with her exercises.

So absorbed in her practice was she that she never realized she'd gathered an observer.

Renji leaned against the base of a tree ten feet behind the nearest tree to the clearing. He carefully concealed his reiatsu and perched. Having happened by her on chance—he was on an errand for his captain—he decided that he could not let this opportunity pass him by. He had since heard the rumors of her reclusive tendencies and realized that he may not get to see her in action at any time in the near future. He was running early anyway; Byakuya did not need the documents he'd picked up for another few hours.

He watched as she untied her robe and flung it at the tree. So quick was she that he barely had time to register what she had done until he realized her bare shoulders and arms were just as bronzed as her face and hands. She'd wrapped her torso with the typical bindings to flatten her womanly assets and as much protect herself as keep said assets out of the way. He could see the contours of said assets through the wrappings, however, along with the chiseled shape of her abdomen and the sharp jut of her hipbone just above her belt. Ink trailed up from her breast under the bindings, curved around her shoulder and trailed down her back and arm on the left side. It was very intricate vines and leaves he noted, done in hues of green and black; occasionally a splash of red appeared at the tip of a leaf. It almost appeared to be some kind of calligraphy on her body. It moved so well with the shape of her; flowed along all her flowing lines, feminized her where she appeared to be so hard. Perhaps that was the point, he mused.

Slowly, he inched nearer to her. She'd probably never speak to him again for this, but well—he had to try. He hadn't looked at a woman in years and felt anything near what he'd felt for Rukia those years ago. He'd never been able to man up and tell _her_ how he'd felt. Now she was lost to him and gazing upon this oddity before him, he felt somewhat relieved for that. He was leaning on the sakura tree now as she stretched out her body, her back to him.

"Wanna go with me for a bite?"

Yuuki spun on him in a flash, bow-staff poised to attack. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked, the end of the staff falling to the ground when she realized who he was.

"I was walking back to my squad building when I felt your reiatsu flare up and I thought you might be in trouble. I couldn't help myself. Knight in shining armor and all..."

Yuuki rolled her eyes and leaned her weight against the staff, hand on hip, staring at him as if he'd grown another head. "And when you realized I was _not_ in trouble...?"

"Like I said, I couldn't help myself." His cheeks were actually turning pink! He could feel the color creeping into them as he stared at her. He didn't think he'd ever seen a woman so beautiful; he distantly wondered why he'd been infatuated with Rukia for so many years. Not that Rukia wasn't a knock-out...but she didn't hold a candle to this woman. He gathered his courage for another try: "So...wanna get something for lunch?"

Yuuki shrugged and spun on her heel, heading back to the sakura tree where her garments lay. When she spotted them on the grass she realized a little belatedly that she had given this Renji person quite a show indeed! She'd forgotten she'd thrown off her robe and her haori during her practice and was covered only by linen bindings and her white hakama. _Oh well, _she mused, _too late to be bashful._ She leaned down and slipped her top over her shoulders, tying it loosely with the black sash and threw her captain's robe over her shoulder. "Lunch, huh? Guess I could eat."

They shared a table at the same small tavern they had all eaten in the night before. The food was good and the place was quiet. The conversation flowed smoothly.

They were sharing a laugh at the barkeep—who was leaning over the bar in a heap and snoring rather loudly—when Renji leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table between them, his face taking on a serious determination. "Can I ask you something?"

Yuuki set her cup of water down after taking a deep swallow and stared back just as determinedly. "Yes, Komamura's my dad."

"How'd you...?"

"Because I've been asked that at least two dozen times a day since I got here. He's my father. My mother was a human. No, I don't know _what_ he is. I'm not sure _he_ knows what he is. Yes, my ears _are_ pointy. No, I do not have a tail. No, there is no fur anywhere on my body. Yes, _I'm sure there is no fur_. I do not possess any animalistic attributes other than a keen sense of smell and excellent hearing..."

"Wow. That bad, huh?"

"Oh. I forgot one." Yuuki took another swig of water. "Yes. I howl."

"Howl?" Renji lifted one eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

"I was asked, on my very first day here, if I howled during sex. Yes. I howl."

She was totally unfazed by it. There was not a hint of color on her cheeks, there was no trace of nerves in her speech. She was non-nonplussed. Renji nearly choked.

"Howl? Who in the hell asked you that?"

"That fat son-of-a-bitch from second."

"Did you answer him?" Renji had to ask.

"And give him something to masturbate to at night? Hell no. I don't want that fucker thinking about me like that!"

Again. Renji very nearly choking to death on rice. He was quite certain he had grains of rice stuck somewhat permanently in his sinus cavity. _Oh well, better take a drink of water so the next time she pops off you can wash it all down, _he thought.

He cleared his throat and cupped his hand over his mouth and chin, as if in deep thought. He cautiously elevated his eyes to hers and said very plainly, "Get used to it."

It was Yuuki's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Whatchya mean, 'Get used to it'?"

"I hate ta break it to ya but there's gonna be a lotta guys around Seireitei using your pretty face for a visual."

It was Yuuki's turn to choke.

An hour later and they were just leaving the tavern. They'd completed their meals long ago and only when Renji realized that Byakuya would probably have his head if he didn't have his paperwork within the hour did they decide to call the lunch date quits and head back to their respective duties.

Renji politely stepped aside as they neared the tavern's door and he brushed the hanging banners out of her way so she could exit. "Thanks. For coming, I mean. It was...interesting."

She smiled at him over her shoulder and agreed. "It was fun. We should eat together again." She ducked under the doorway and slid out into the street. She hesitated for a moment to wait for his response. _Please say, Yes... I don't think I've enjoyed myself this much in a decade!_

"Yuuki...I have one more question..."

"Hmm?" She glanced back at him and chewed unconsciously on her lower lip awaiting his reply.

He distantly wished she wouldn't chew on her lip...that was just too hot. "Do you ever get deja vu? I mean, around certain people?"

Yuuki felt her knees buckle a bit. She hoped he didn't see the tremor run over her body or the gooseflesh rise on her skin. "Yeah...a lot lately."

Renji nodded solemnly and turned in the direction of squad six's headquarters. "Dunno why. I never really knew what it was till I met you. I mean, I don't really remember a time when I experienced it. Then that first day, in Yama-sama's office...it just...hit me."

"I know what you mean, Renji."

He nodded again and took a step. "Lunch tomorrow?" _Please say Yes...I don't think I've enjoyed myself this much...ever..._

"Absolutely."


	3. Getting to Know You

Berlin, Germany 1939

Several days had passed since Evie and Himura had shared lunch together and in that time, she'd not laid eyes on him once. She found herself on varying occasions wandering throughout the long corridors of the palace, looking for him without _looking_ like she was looking for him. She didn't know what it was about the man that intrigued her so, only that he was very handsome, very funny, and for some reason she couldn't get that shock of red hair out of her mind. She gathered up some manilla folders from her desk that she needed to deliver to one of the accountants in the west wing and gingerly slipped her feet back into the heels she'd shucked off under her desk. It was innocent enough, she supposed, to have developed a little crush considering she'd spent so much of her time in Berlin alone since she'd arrived. She honestly wished it hadn't been on a member of the Nazi party; but he was nice to her and he didn't _seem_ depraved...so perhaps she'd slip out of it the same way she did her heels at every present opportunity. She heaved the folders of paperwork up and rested them against her hip, glancing around her office to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything that could turn this little hike into a marathon. Satisfied that she wasn't leaving anything important behind, she made her way to her office door and, bumping it open with her toe, slithered through the crack and kicked it shut behind her.

She hadn't made it ten feet from her office when an officer appeared from another doorway and intercepted her.

"Fraulein? The fuehrer wishes to see you immediately. Would you like me to take this for you?" He gestured at the stack of folders in her arms.

"Umm..." she gnawed at her lower lip wondering if it would be prudent to put the accounts of a nation in the hands of a low-ranked officer. "No, don't worry about that. I'll just take it with me."

"You are sure, ma'am?"

"Absolutely, dear. It's quite important stuff, you see..." She trailed off and hugged the folders closer. The officer nodded his acquiescence and stepped aside doing an about-face; trotting off at brisk pace that she had to struggle to keep up with as he escorted her to the fuehrer's office.

The doors swung out immediately at their arrival and the escort again stepped aside, allowing her to walk into the office ahead of him. Hitler sat smugly behind his huge desk and directly to his right was the very man she'd been wasting her worry on the past few days. So relieved she was to see him, she didn't hear the huge doors slam shut behind her. She must have smiled when she saw him, because his face lit up for just a moment; he flashed her that cock-sure grin and just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared behind his military facade. The fuehrer cleared his throat audibly and gestured for Evie to sit in one of the leather chairs directly in front of his desk. She complied without pause and laid the burden of accounts across her lap as she crossed her legs.

Her German was good—exceptionally so. Especially for one whose first language was English. But when Hitler was mad, he spoke with such speed that she was positive the natives could not comprehend what he was saying. And he was mad. Livid, even. She held her hand up and gestured for him to stop.

"I apologize, but you're going to fast, Fuehrer! Please, I know you're upset, but you have to slow down a bit. I'm not _that_ good."

The briefest smile passed his face and he nodded. "I am the one who is to apologize my dear. I forget sometimes you are not German, yourself."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Himura blanch when she told the man to slow down as if he were a child—but the fact that the fuehrer actually responded so positively to her request had Himura's face screwed up into a grimace of disbelief. This tiny woman could control the "Herr Wolf" with such ease? Just a word and he jumped to her bidding? He was baffled!

"Fraulein," Hitler began again, "I have received some discouraging information regarding your personal safety."

Evie's heart did a back-flip in her ribcage. She thought, at first, he was going to say they'd discovered her allegiance to England and her role as an operative on the payroll of allied nations. She knew the relief washing over her was visible, she just hoped they mistook it for fear.

"My dear, Offizier Eberhardt and yourself have become rather acquainted and so I am assigning him to be your personal Leibwächter...bodyguard. It seems that one of my offices has received a threat regarding yourself and as you are my best intern—and I personally regard you very highly—I cannot take this threat lightly. I am giving you Eberhardt to use as you see fit; however, if you do not respond to his expertise as he deems necessary, beware that he is to protect you at all costs—whether you like it or not."

"Herr Wolf" reclined in his chair and gestured to Himura to join Evie on the opposite side of his desk. "You two stay out of trouble." He dismissed them with a nod, and Himura took Evie's elbow and helped her to her feet.

"What kind of threat?" she asked timidly, as he lead her out of the office. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her knees were knocking under the wool of her skirt. "And, come to think of it, where have you been?" She didn't want to admit that she'd missed him, but seeing as her life was apparently in danger, she surely didn't want him to disappear out of the blue again.

"If I knew what kind of threat, I'd tell you. I'll dig into it, see what I can find out...where are you going with all those papers?"

"Oh! I was en route to the accountants' offices earlier. I need to drop these off."

"I was visiting my mother in the hospital."

"Huh? Oh...sorry. Attention span very short," she apologized, holding up her thumb and forefinger and pinching them close to represent a small amount. He chuckled under his breath as he guided her toward the west wing. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is she...alright?"

Himura nodded and extended his arm to her; took her free hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. He sighed and shook his head. "No, actually. She's not. She has an ailment of the lungs and there isn't a doctor in the Reich that can cure her."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Nothing you need to apologize for, mien liebes. I wish..." he glanced about them cautiously and lowered his voice to a whisper; "I wish I could get her out to England. There's a good doctor there—he's made advancements in delicate medicine. But if I go tapping the fuehrer for favors like that, I'm afraid he'll call me out for treason."

"I understand. My father is in England. I'd love to visit, but I don't want the Reich to assume I'm defecting."

Himura nodded in agreement and turned her down the corridor to the accountants' offices. "Your father is English?"

"Well..." She rolled her lower lip between her teeth. "Not _precisely._ My grandfather was Japanese and he married an English woman. So, my father is somewhat of a half-breed, I suppose. In turn, _he_ married an English woman and here I am. Blond, blue-eyed, but still strangely Oriental."

Himura turned his face to her and studied her almond-shaped blue eyes and the mop of blond hair she had tied into a neat bun at her nape. _Yeah,_ he admitted, _still "strangely Oriental"._ Her cheek bones were high, her jaw slightly square and her skin was an even olive tone, but the hair and eyes threw her into some otherworldly category for beauty. _And she is beautiful,_ he thought wryly. But entirely..._strange_ looking. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and he turned his face away lest she see it. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her appearance. "Guess that makes two of us."

"So, what's your story? Your heritage must be as mushed up as mine, what with that hair!"

Himura defensively clapped his hand over the top of his head and looked at her with feigned appall. "What ever do you mean? I am everything my name suggests! I am scarlet and I _am_ strong as a boar!"

Evie laughed outright and leaned into him a bit as they took their final steps to the accounting department's door. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Well we're here now, so I suppose you'll have to wait to find out."

She rolled her eyes at him and lifted her arm to knock but realized it was full of folders and her free hand was still wrapped leisurely around his right arm. He recognized her dilemma and knocked on the panel before she got the word "Please," out of her mouth.

"So, after this...lunch?" he grinned.

He took her back to the same little cafe they'd eaten in before and she ordered the same bisque and tea. He scrunched his nose up at the tea—he didn't understand tea. It was hot, true; the weather was bitterly cold now and he _got_ that, the need to have something to warm your insides. But it was plain, you had to add things to it to make it taste like something it _wasn't_, and substantially, there was not much to it. "Why would anyone drink something you had to brew out of _leaves_?" he wondered aloud and Evie paused with her tea cup mid-way to her lips.

"Because they _like_ it?"

"...it's _leaves._ You have to put sugar and cream in it to make it taste like anything and then it just tastes like sugar and cream! Why don't you just pour some cream and sugar into a cup and drink it that way?"

She laughed and sat her cup back down. "In case you didn't notice, the only thing in _my_ tea is lemon. And what right do you have to mock my beverage? You're drinking _bean juice!_"

Himura looked at his coffee with a new-found disgust. "You know, I never thought of it that way."

Shaking her head in mirth, Evie lifted her tea again and took a small sip. "So, tell me about this 'heritage' of yours. What makes you as odd as me?"

Himura pushed his coffee away from him and motioned for the waiter. "Could I just get some water, Freund?" He turned to face her and draped his arm over the back of his chair. "My father was a German patriot during the last war. He was a huge man with the brightest, most ridiculously red hair you'd ever seen. He traveled east at the outbreak on some mission to keep Japan out of the war. And failed miserably, I might add. He came home with a bride, if not his honor as an emissary. I was born promptly six months after their wedding—I trust you have no problems with basic mathematics—and here I sit. Ridiculous red hair and entirely too large for someone of Japanese descent. Thereby I suppose I befit that category of yours, what did you call it? _Strangely Oriental_."

"Like you said, that makes two of us." Evie pushed her tea cup away and reached across the table to Himura's coffee. "Since you're not going to drink it," she offered and stole his cup away.

He laughed at her boldness and in turned pulled her bisque to his side of the table. "Since you're suddenly so interested in _sharing_..." He lifted a spoonful to his lips and sniffed it comically before cautiously inserting it into his mouth. Evie found herself giggling like a school girl watching his antics.

"Does it suit you?"

"It's better than tea!"

After their illuminating meal together, they walked arm in arm back to the manor that currently housed them both. Looking up at it, Evie realized with sudden gravity what a distastefully _grim_ place it was. The furnishings were fabulous, true; but the facade of the place, no matter how decadent it was inside, was horribly lacking. A matte gray building that melded completely into its matte gray surroundings. The sharp incline of the shingled black roof was the only thing that made it appear to stand freely. The buildings surrounding it were nearly as drab as the manor itself; only the tall gas-light lamp in front of the entrance seemed to say _This house is important. This is a Place d'Armes filled with the knowledge and empowerment of a nation._ She was nearly disgusted with herself for calling this home; but she knew she had a pivotal role to play in this war—even if playing "dress-up" was part of it all. Himura helped her up the ice-slick steps to the front door and a uniformed man let them inside. She shrugged out of her heavy coat and her new companion hung it inside the hall closet in the foyer where they stood. The officer had since shuffled away and they found themselves in a lovely solitude for the moment. Evie very much wanted to take Himura aside and confess her role in the scheme of things. _I'm sorry, but I'm not a Nazi! I'm here to provide intelligence to London; I'm the best code-breaker they have in this sector! Forgive me; I sincerely like you... I can't change what I am but I hope we can still be friends!_

Instead she stared into his amber eyes and said nothing. She was so lost in her own confusion she nearly missed the fact that suddenly, and without preamble, she was being kissed.

He didn't know what it was about this woman that provoked him so. He just knew that she'd been happy and bold and that abruptly, she looked lost and afraid. She was staring at him so...forlornly. If it had been any other woman—beautiful or not—he wouldn't have done this. But his brain was screaming at him: _She needs to be kissed!_

His lips touched hers gently, as if he wasn't sure himself what he was doing; brushing back and forth over her soft mouth. Her eyes widened as she realized what was going on and though she knew this was _not_ the avenue they needed to travel down, she couldn't stop herself from responding. Her lids fluttered shut and she kissed him back, delicately at first, then more forcefully, her hands unconsciously reaching up to that ridiculous red hair and she swept the black SS uniform cap from his head and leaned into him. Her fingers locked in the hair at his nape while the cap was dropped to the floor forgotten and he looped his arms about her waist and pulled her against him. They didn't separate for some minutes until a soft "Ahem" made them remember their surroundings. They jumped apart as if electrified and Himura quickly swiped his hat from the floor and guiltily saluted the officer that had interrupted them. Thank God the man had a sense of humor. He nodded at Evie and looked back to Himura, gesturing to his mouth and making a small wiping motion with his hand, he left.

Evie glanced curiously at him and gave a sharp bark of laughter at what the officer had been referring to—Himura had her red lipstick smeared all over his lips and she thought delightedly that red was indeed a good color for him.


	4. Breaking Heads, Breaking Dates

Soul Society

"What do you mean they're making him a _captain_?"

Yuuki and Renji stepped into the tavern just as the statement was bellowed out across the expanse of the dining room. Renji and Yuuki exchanged glances for a moment, then headed toward the source of the belligerent exclamation. Renji already had a very good idea who the culprit had been and seeing Matsumoto seated gracefully beside her captain—and fiancee—gave the idea impeccable credence.

Toshiro Hitsugaya had grown quite a bit over the last 50 years, Renji admitted; and his size alone would make a smart man think twice about challenging him—even if one did not know of Hitsugaya's vicious reputation as very dangerous shinigami captain. He'd hit his growth spurt out of the blue, shot up to at least six-two, and immediately realized his undying affection for his fukutaicho at roughly the same time he was able to see over her breasts. Renji laughed to himself as he helped Yuuki sit next to Rangiku and took his own spot across from the frosty-haired demon.

"Makin' who a captain?" Renji asked conversationally, though he already knew the answer. Hell, he was one of the shinigami from which Ichigo had asked for a recommendation.

"That orange-headed freak! Kurosaki!"

Renji dually noted that Hitsugaya's vocabulary had admittedly taken a down-turn about the same time as his growth-spurt.

"He saunters into Soul Society, doesn't join the academy, never considered taking captain-class exams; not once did he serve as a lower ranking member of _any_ squadron—and they're making that damned _ryoka _a_ captain!_"

Yuuki glanced at Rangiku who was laughing behind her hand. "You told him, huh?"

"I thought he deserved to know...I mean, it's not like he doesn't _respect_ Ichigo. He just doesn't understand why someone who was as feared and hated as him didn't have to go through any of the normal channels for captaincy. Toshiro was a child prodigy and they gave him hell. Ichigo was an intruder and a rebel—among other things—and he literally waltzed in and took a division."

Yuuki very well remembered all the ryoka hub-bub years ago; the boy "stealing" a shinigami's powers; repeatedly saving Soul Society from catastrophe after ridiculous catastrophe; for a good while, she assumed it was some legend—a myth. Then her father had filled her in on all the juicy details, including the fact that the human and the shinigami from which he'd supposedly "stolen" his powers had apparently fallen for each other. She'd thought it tragically romantic. Then, less than a year ago, someone had reportedly spotted the legendary ryoka wandering Soul Society. No one knew exactly how—to this day—he'd died and managed to enter Soul Society, not only on his own, but exactly as he'd been at the height of his substitute-shinigami days. Yuuki supposed it had something to due with his very unique capabilities and doubted she'd ever find out anything more about it. She did, however, understand Hitsugaya's emotional upheaval about the immediate captaincy.

Toshiro heaved a great distressful sigh and drained the bowl of sake in front of him. Rangiku dutifully leaned over and refilled his cup, then proffered two more for Renji and Yuuki. She filled them as well and finally her own. After downing the second bowl, Toshiro looked up from the table and finally acknowledged the presence of his dinner guests.

Truth be told, they were Rangiku's dinner guests, but he supposed it didn't matter. He liked Renji well enough and if anyone in Soul Society could give Rangiku Matsumoto a run for her money in the looks department, it was Komamura's Daughter. "Have they assigned you a division yet?" he asked languidly, arching one eyebrow as if to imply: "Probably not, since they seem to want to give all the openings away to unqualified 'applicants'."

Yuuki shook her head in the negative and sipped from her bowl. "Not yet. It's fine though, I'm just kind of doing my own thing until the time comes. No responsibilities, no squad, no problems. I can be an icon instead of a captain. Hell, I could be a Mascot."

Hitsugaya laughed bitterly and toasted her sake bowl with his own. "And what a lovely mascot you could be," he nodded. "I think Momo's division would benefit greatly from your leadership. I've read all your reports from your previous squad. She doesn't have the will to step up and be a captain on her own—she needs a strong guiding hand. One a bit more gentle and perhaps less...invasive...than her former captain's."

"'Shiro could write you a letter of recommendation for a specific division, if you like," Matsumoto offered. "I would guarantee you'd have your own squad in a matter of days."

"I've no doubt," Yuuki agreed. She knew of Hitsugaya's pull among the captains. Especially with Shunsui and Ukitake who were both highly considered to be the next in line for Head Captain. She mulled the idea over a bit and finally responded. "I'll give it some thought and get back to you." She liked the concept of having her own squadron again but truth be told, she was really enjoying the freedom and "playtime" that being unattached warranted.

"Just let me know when you're ready. I understand the need to be free from the bureaucracy from time to time, but you'll get bored eventually," Toshiro remarked. If you're not seated by the time Rangiku and I take our honeymoon, perhaps you'd sit in for me while we're gone?"

"It would be my honor, Hitsugaya-kun."

"Are they moving you to another division after your wedding, Ran-chan?" Renji asked, pushing his sake bowl across the table to her for a refill. "I know it's not horribly uncommon for shinigami to marry, but I've never heard of a captain marrying his fukutaicho..."

Rangiku shook her head, her gaze stealing away to her fiancee's profile, then back again to Renji. "They asked 'Shiro if he thought it would be a good idea but he told them no. I think they maybe worried that the division will become too _personal_ to him—and I understand that—but right now we don't think it will be a problem."

Hitsugaya piped in: "I'd like to keep my wife as close to me as possible, _especially_ if there's danger. If she's with any other division, I have no guarantee of her safety." He reached out and took Matsumoto's hand in his and Yuuki thought she might burst into a veritable fountain of gushy love-rainbows and foil hearts. It was sweet, terribly so.

_ You're just jealous, _she told herself.

Weeks passed and still Yuuki had heard no word on the settling of her seat; she and Renji continued their daily luncheon rituals and Seireitei remained in a relative period of peace. She kept her practices private for the most part, but as other shinigami became aware of her hideaway a few would find their way there to spar against her. Her popularity among the captain-class was growing, even with her reclusive tendencies. Renji was her most common companion, though, and she was still suffering from the elusive nightmares of what she presumed to be her past.

Hitsugaya's and Matsumoto's wedding was nearing and much to her delight, Yuuki received a note from Ran-chan one morning to meet her at their most-frequented tavern.

Sliding into her shihakusho after a morning bath, Yuuki tied her sash and left her captain's robe draped over the back of a chair. _No point in that if I'm not actively Captaining a squad,_ she thought, and hurried out of her father's house.

Matsumoto greeted her with a broad smile and an exuberant hug that left Yuuki feeling a bit violated. Laughing at Yuuki's comment about exactly that, Rangiku sat her down and handed her a small folded piece of paper. Yuuki opened it carefully and beamed at the calligraphy inside.

"You're inviting me to your wedding?" she exclaimed, reaching across the table and squeezing Matsumoto's hand. "I don't know what to say!"

"Say you'll come! Besides, Renji will need a date and you two have been spending so much time together lately..."

Yuuki was positive she blushed but Matsumoto didn't poke fun at her if she had. "There is one slight detail you need to be made aware of, however," Matsumoto said gravely, thinking perhaps if Yuuki knew she may decline. She sincerely hoped not, though.

"What's that?" Yuuki asked, inclining her head and glancing down at the invitation again.

"Do you have a gigai?"

"Um...no?"

"You'll have to have one made...the wedding's in the living world. Ooh! Can we go to Urahara-san's and have you fitted today? You're not doing anything, right?"

As slight of a blow it was to her ego, Yuuki agreed and they hastily made plans to travel to Karakura and hit-up Urahara-san's shop. Matsumoto left to let her fiance know of her plans and Yuuki headed off to Sixth Squad's barracks to let Renji know they wouldn't be having their daily lunch together. As she rounded the tall privacy fence that bordered their training facility, the crash and clang of steel and the grunts and groans of battle-hardened bodies filled her ears. The squad was going all-out in a mock war and instead of instructing from the side lines, Renji was right in the middle of it all. She shook her head as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and plopped her hands on her hips, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. She was impressed at his ability to leap right into practice with every squad member beneath him; taking hits as well as receiving a few—a miniscule few, she admitted to herself. His mass of red hair had fallen from its ponytail in the fray and apparently he'd misplaced his kimono, as well. Yuuki's mouth veritably went dry at the sight of his broad tanned back glistening with a film of sweat. She shook her head violently to rid her mind of the thought. He leaped in the air, executing a beautiful 180 degree turn and rapped a subordinate across the back with a bokken. Yuuki pulled her lower lip into her mouth and rolled it gently between her teeth as she wantonly visualized some way for Renji to bring all that innate agility to her bed. She felt awful for it, of course; after all, he was probably her best friend here in Seireitei, and there she stood, fantasizing about his "agility". She felt even worse because she was sure he didn't stand around fantasizing about her. _That I know of,_ she admitted to herself, remembering Rukia's quip about him being an "over-sexed rebel".

At that instant, Renji spun on another opponent which happened to put him directly in line of sight with Yuuki who was standing expectantly on the side lines. His brain ceased to function when she was in his presence, he thought ruefully when the bokken broke over his head with far more force than was necessary. His last fleeting thought as he stared at her lower lip rolling between her teeth was, _Damn, I wish she wouldn't do that..._

The mock-battle had come to a staggering halt when the vice-captain's body had crumpled to the ground in an unceremonious heap. Yuuki blinked a few times just to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks before she dashed out to the middle of the field and hovered over Renji, pushing subordinates out of the way and settling down in the grass beside him. She checked over him quickly for major injuries, but she saw exactly what had happened. A soldier had gotten a little to hot-headed because Renji had avoided his blows one-too-many times and had splintered his wooden sword over Renji's head when he'd been distracted..._by ME_, Yuuki thought desperately. This was her fault. The over-exuberant man had sidled up to her as she pulled Renji's head into her lap and tried to work the thick mass of scarlet hair out of his face so she could see if there was any damage.

"I'm...I'm so sorry!" he cried, dropping to his knees beside her. "Is he...dead?"

She spared him a cross look and simply snapped, "Get someone from your Fourth Division over here—NOW! If he doesn't kill you when he comes to, know that if you are not out of my sight in the next five seconds, I will!" With a startled yelp, the man leapt to his feet and practically left a trail of dust in his wake as he headed for Fourth Division's headquarters.

With her vehement proclamation, the rest of the squad backed off as well, leaving an undisturbed ring around the fallen fukutaicho and the mysterious "Komamura's Daughter". A faint groan escaped Renji's lips and Yuuki was using the sleeve of her shihakusho to wipe the blood out of his eyes. "Hey, you..." he mumbled, but his eyes never opened.

She smiled despite herself. "Hi, yourself."

One amber eye cracked open and locked with her blue gaze. "You gotta stop doin' that lip thing."

"What lip thing?"

Renji's face broke into a lazy grin and the other eye cracked open. "You look worried. Am I dyin'?"

"You don't seem to be breaking into spirit-particles so it's a good bet that you're fine."

As she spoke she didn't see his hand coming up and around the back of her head. She wasn't startled at all however, when his fingers slid into the hair at her nape and he began pulling her face down to meet his own.

"That lip thing—you chew on your lower lip. It's very distracting..." he admonished, his breath mingling with hers as her face descended ever lower.

"I think you have a concussion, Renji dear, because you don't seem to know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing. It just took me getting knocked in the head to realize I shoulda done it a long time ago..." With that her lips closed over his and it felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs. There was something so passionate, so distantly _familiar_ about having his lips on hers that it very nearly brought tears to her eyes. She felt a fool and tried to pull away, but Renji did not loosen his grip. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth and flicked his tongue over it a few times, finally allowing her to sit up. "So, that's what it's all about..." he laughed, referring to her habit. Yuuki shook her head and looked around to glare at the audience Renji had either not known they had or had blatantly not _cared. _To Yuuki's horror, Unahona Retsu, Fourth Division Captain, stood immediately to their right, arms folded across her chest and a look on her face that said she'd decided she'd been summoned for nothing. Yuuki continued to stare up at her, bewildered, and only when the look of dismay was replaced with concern did Yuuki realize that Renji had blacked out...again.

Renji lay on an elevated bed in the Fourth Division's "hospital", wondering futilely if he shouldn't have kissed the woman who was now standing at the foot of his bed. He studied her as she talked to Hanataro, both of them keeping their voices low so as not to disturb him. Evidently, they both assumed he was still out like a light, but the wound had been healed immediately upon his arrival and he'd been shown to a room to rest while the effects of the concussion wore off.

He gazed at Yuuki through heavy-lidded eyes, watching the way her tapered fingers occasionally ran through her short hair in a gesture of worry. Her left hip was propped on the foot board of the bed and her kimono was layered one side over the other in a way that made him realize she was not wearing her customary bindings beneath her shihakusho. In fact, when she turned ever-so-slightly to her left, the sun slanting through the blinds landed lovingly on her kimono and afforded him the wonderful view of the graceful slope of the bottom of her right breast. He groaned imperceptibly and shut his eyes against the sight. It was shameful of him, he knew, but somehow he just couldn't stop himself. He remembered the way those bindings had clung to her body on the day he'd found her practicing in the clearing; the jagged cut of her hipbones, the subtle ripple of muscle on her taut stomach, the swell of her breasts against the fabric of her bindings. The way she wore her hakama, slung low across her hips...keeping his eyes closed was more dangerous than looking at her now, he realized. He honed in on the conversation she was having with his "nurse".

"...he'll actually be fine to leave as soon as he wakes up," Hanataro was saying. Yuuki turned from the window where she'd moved to look outside and nodded at his assessment. "The wound was deep but easily mended. The concussion just needs some rest. If he'll stay in his bed at the barracks, I don't see why he can't be back to work tomorrow morning."

"That's good," she said quietly. "I'm just glad he's okay. I feel like this is my fault."

"Why would you even think that?" Hanataro asked, a look of bewildered awe on his young face.

"He was doing so well till he noticed me. I distracted him and he got injured. If I'd have just waited for him to finish, this wouldn't have happened."

"I hate to break it to you, Yuuki," Hanataro said, a smile easing it's way onto his face, "but you tend to distract the vast majority of the male population around here. If you're worried about anyone getting hurt, you'll have to stay indoors for a while."

Yuuki smiled at his compliment and reached for his hand, giving it a little squeeze. "You're a sweetheart, Hana." She glanced over at Renji who was staring at the two of them with one eyebrow cocked and his hands laced together over his middle. His redder-than-red hair was splayed all over the pillows under his head and half-hid a comical gauze wrap around his crown. Yuuki smiled at him, pleased that he was awake. She walked over to the bed and rested her hip against his elbow, leaning over to brush the unruly hair from his face.

"Better?"

"I'm not sure. I don't like the idea of stayin' cooped up in my bed for the rest of the day."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that's exactly what you are going to do, _dearest_." She leaned over him, unconsciously affording him the best view yet of her breasts. Renji gulped audibly as she kissed him gently on his forehead. "I'm going to Karakura with Matsumoto shortly. I just came to cancel our lunch plans when the attempt on your life was made," she chuckled. Renji rolled his eyes up to meet hers and plastered the most profoundly _sad_, devastated look on his face that he could muster.

"You came to break our date?" he moaned theatrically, pulling her lower against his chest, fully intending to take up where they'd left off on the practice field.

"Yup. Considering I have to be your date to Toshiro and Ran-chan's wedding, I have to go get myself a gigai." She wound up mumbling against his mouth because when his lips were that close to hers, she realized forming a complete sentence was not within her power. His mouth opened over hers and the breath left her body. Again, she felt a tremendous feeling of déjà-vu swell inside her and she responded to his kiss with a groan. His tongue tentatively snaked in between her lips just as she heard the door to his room fly open and Matsumoto's voice ring out in the hall, "Hope I'm not interrupting any_thing_!"

Yuuki flew away from the side of Renji's bed so fast, he was certain she'd flash-stepped. Both of them hid a disappointed scowl when Rangiku stormed in with the announcement that she had procured the use of a Senkai gate for their trip.


	5. Giving In

Berlin, Germany 1939

Evie examined the small package on her dresser carefully. It was addressed to her, it was wrapped nicely in plain paper, and it had no note or card visible that testified to its origin. What blew her mind, however, was _how_ it had gotten in her room in the first place. She locked her door at night, the maid did not beg entrance until at least eight o'clock, and contrary to the state of mind she'd been in after Himura's kiss last night, she had in fact spent the night alone.

She lifted the carefully wrapped box and realized immediately that it was a jeweler's case. The heft of it, even concealed, gave it away. She peeled the paper off gently, wary of the whole thing as it was; lifted the lid a tiny fraction and peered inside. With a gasp, she let it snap shut and pinched the tip of her thumb for her effort.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed as the box closed abruptly on her hand, then self-consciously tightening the belt on her silk robe, she sniffed and tried the lid again.

It opened completely this time, and she gazed inside in disbelief. Distantly she wondered if this gift had found its way into the wrong room here at the manor. No one she knew could afford such a treasure, excepting the Fuehrer himself; no one would certainly see fit to give _her_ something like this.

She carefully lifted the tennis bracelet from the confines of the velvet box, dazzled by the delicate filigree that tied the aquamarines and diamonds together. The whole thing caught the light coming through her window and cast amazing sparkles on the wall opposite. Only when she sat the box down on her dresser top did a tiny folded piece of paper fall from beneath the satin folds in the box and flutter to the floor. Not bothering to lay the bracelet aside for fear that it might vanish if she no longer held it, Evie stooped to get the note and unfolded it. To her astonishment, the note was not written in German, or even in English. Instead it was worded in an achingly familiar calligraphy that she had not seen since her childhood.

_The most beautiful aquamarine would not dare to compare itself to your eyes; the most perfect of diamonds could not boast the silken beauty of your hair. Your lips would not deign to liken themselves to the richest rubies because there is no comparison between perfection and worthlessness. Your are the most perfect of jewels among the squalor of my life and I treasure that I may call you friend. Obediently Yours, Himura._

Evie was not aware that there were tears streaming down her cheeks until a stray drop landed on the paper before her. Never in her life had she ever received any gift so beautiful, only to have those jewels out-shined by the simple note that came with it. She was lifted from her reverie by insistent knocking at her door. The little maid's voice followed closely behind.

"Miss Evie? Are you up, Dear? I've brought your laundry!"

Sighing to herself, Evie clasped the bracelet around her wrist and folded the note and tucked it away in her jewelry box. She made her way to the door and threw the bolt, allowing the maid entrance. The tiny woman could not have been more than four feet tall, her gray-streaked hair tied severely back into a chignon at her nape. Her white apron was pristine as usual; her drab gray wool dress hung listlessly even on her plump frame. She was Jewish, of that Evie was certain, and she felt a keen pity for the woman who'd had the misfortune to wind up keeping house for a group of Nazis.

"Millicent?" Evie asked, turning to the older woman and throwing the bolt back on the door. "Do you know who left this on my dresser?" Evie pointed to the jeweler's case and the discarded wrapping.

"Umm, well...you see Miss...there was this soldier...frightfully handsome! You see, he begged me to take it last night. He wanted to put it in here himself, but I just couldn't! I wouldn't let him do that, you know! And..." the diminutive woman wrung her hands, trying to find the words without upsetting her mistress. "I sneaked it in here, Miss...I'm terribly sorry! I should've knocked and woke you...but you said yourself last night how tired you were! And you were sleeping so deeply when I sneaked in... I'll understand if you want my key to your room back, Miss..."

"No, Dearest, you keep that key. I only wanted to know how it got here. If he'd put it in here himself, no matter how pretty his words were, I'd have knocked him over the head!"

The little maid laughed nervously and turned to make up the bed. "Oh, and Miss Evie...I nearly forgot!" She spun back to the pile of laundry and removed yet another mysterious brown-wrapped package from the heap. "One of the women in the kitchen got all of us a pair of these: they're nylon! She said they're brand new; hardly anyone's got them yet! Her fiddling with that soldier boy that she's got—he got her a pair and she says they're wonderful! Nothing like those silk ones, so she ordered every one of us girls a pair, and seeing as she likes you so much, she told me to give these to you."

Evie took the package from the maid and removed its contents. "I can honestly say, I've never had a kitchen woman gift me with knickers..." The stockings were sheer and had a seam down the back of the leg. Evie shook her head, a giggle rising in her chest. "Millicent? Is my uniform pressed? I'll need it for the rally tonight."

"Not yet Miss, but I can have it done, soon as I get your clothes put away."

"Thank you, Dear. I'll be up to change around six. I've got some last minute things to do for the Fuehrer before then but I shan't be hard to find if you need me." Evie discarded her robe and pulled on her garter belt and the new stockings. Rummaging in her closet found a black wool pencil skirt with a daring slit at the hem, a freshly pressed white silk blouse, and a cropped matching jacket for the skirt. She decided on a pair of heels that would probably be killing her in a matter of hours, but their black and white wing-tip design made a novel match to her outfit.

Nothing much could ever be done with her hair; it was a ridiculously thick mass of waves and hung to her middle back. She never could bring herself to cut it as was the fashion, so she combed through it with her fingers and simply tied it back at her nape. She never was much into the hat-craze, either but she'd spied a darling fedora in a shop the other day and decided on a whim to buy it. Himura had insisted it looked lovely on her, but judging from his note and the bracelet she was sure he'd insist _anything_ looked lovely as long as it was on her.

Millicent zipped her skirt up behind her and Evie finished buttoning the white blouse. She shrugged into the jacket, perched the fedora on her head and gave her thick tresses a swipe to bring them over her shoulder. Sliding into her heels, poor Millicent seemed to shrink. With a swipe of red lipstick and a pinch to her cheeks, she was off; feeling positively more feminine than she'd felt in years.

The majority of Evie's day was spent racing between the Propaganda Offices and the accountants' offices. The Grecian splendor that was the interior of the manor went by in a blur; Himura's kiss still plagued her senses and she was amazed that she hadn't crossed paths with him yet. She desperately wanted to thank him for his gift, but she supposed that even as her assigned bodyguard, he had other—more militant—duties to take care of.

She did briefly catch a glimpse of brilliant red hair rounding a corner towards the living quarters as she was headed back to her room to change. She had the remarkable feeling that he'd been nearer to her all day than she'd realized and a strange giddiness mixed with anger washed over her. The least he could have done was let her know he was there! Her thoughts flashed back to a conversation with the fuehrer some days ago about her not arguing with the way Himura saw fit to protect her. With a defeated sigh, she unlocked the door to her room at precisely five fifty-eight and was greeted with her uniform hanging, freshly pressed, on her wardrobe directly in front of her.

She discarded her current garb in a neat pile, draping it over the foot-board of her bed, intending to hang it herself when she was done. In her dressing robe, she made her way over to her vanity table and pulled out the jewelry drawer, carefully removing the small boxes of finery and placing them on the vanity top. She glanced quickly at the door to her room, making sure she'd thrown the dead-bolt, then popped the false bottom out of the drawer to check for any Allied correspondence that may have been left there in her absence. She had no idea who her contact was in the manor—London officials had told her it would be better if they did not know one another's identity and she assumed they could be correct. Sheer vicinity could convict a person of a crime here before facts and motives, she knew. There was indeed a folded piece of paper in the bottom of the drawer, a fresh wax seal on the fold sporting the Nazi emblem. Her contact always sealed his letters in this matter; either a joke or an act of subterfuge, she did not know. For that matter, she didn't know if her contact was male or female. She assumed it was a man because of the tiny, precisely blocked characters the letters were always written in. In her experience, women had more flowing, _lovely_ handwriting.

The note was coded simply, but there wasn't any real information in it, either, she realized. Her first thought was a decoy—the note did not ask for a reply but leaving one could get her killed. It read, simply: "You are in good hands." She decided after several minutes of deliberation to ignore the note and its contents completely. She kept the hiding place empty deliberately, burning every piece of correspondence that was placed there, so if approached about the receipt of the note she could simply confess to having a hiding spot for her valuables; there was no other evidence to press upon her and she could deny having ever received the note, or say she threw it away, thinking nothing of it. So, it wasn't the _best_ plan she'd ever had, but she thought it would save her ass if she was in a bind...especially since the fuehrer himself thought so highly of her.

She donned her uniform in short order, after placing the false bottom back into the drawer and throwing her jewelry boxes along with the bracelet box back in it. She was buttoning her jacket when the maid knocked and asked if she needed anything before she left for the rally.

"No, Millie. I'm about to leave now!" she shouted through the door, reaching for garter-holster she kept in her bureau. She had it up to her knee when the door suddenly unlocked and the little maid's head popped in. When Evie looked up, her eyes went wide and she stilled in shock, her skirt hiked up to her hip and her heeled foot propped on the foot-board in front of her.

"Oh...dear..." Millicent stuttered, trying belatedly to close the door, all the while explaining to Evie, "Mr. Himura's here to escort you to the rally..." His cock-sure grin said it all as the door was slammed in his face.

In the car, Evie simply refused to acknowledge Himura's presence. She sat across from him in a long Rolls Royce, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed, nose in the air. If she hadn't seen his face while she was in that compromising position, she'd have hugged him and told him his gift was beautiful, he thought. But that damned smirk on his face...hell, he couldn't help himself! He didn't even try to talk to her; he just stared at her pretty face with the same smile tugging at his mouth. The only thing on his mind was way she'd looked with that garter half-way up her leg..._splendid legs_...he amended; the look of shock on her face when she'd registered his presence behind that prudish little maid of hers, the way those perfect red lips made a little "O" of surprise. He tried to get the laugh out of his voice before he spoke, but he knew he made a terrible job of it. "Do you like your gift?"

Her head snapped around so quickly he thought she might lose it. "Yes," was her clipped answer, but she gave it away when she brought the item in question up to gaze at it. She decided being angry was futile. It wasn't his fault he saw her in that provocative position; only that he seemed to like it so much made her feel self-conscious and a little giddy. "Thank you," she added, her voice softening and she finally met his hazel gaze. She did not understand how anyone's eyes could cover such a broad spectrum of color. In the soft glow of headlamps and streetlights, they were somewhere between gold and emerald, but earlier at her door, they had positively glowed with an amber-red hue that warmed her to her toes. His effect on her was dangerous, she knew; and the fact that she didn't seem to care scared her shitless. "I had intended to thank you sooner, but I was so busy today, and I never happened by you..." she trailed off, folding her hands in her lap; not breaking her gaze from the bracelet.

"I take it you got the note, as well?"

For a moment she forgot the one in the jeweler's case, her mind flitting directly to the correspondence from her contact. Her hesitation was apparent and Himura thought for a moment that she had not in fact read his touching explanation. Then suddenly, she recalled, and her cheeks flushed for a brief second before she turned her eyes up to meet his again.

"I did. Your calligraphy is beautiful...when I saw it, I was afraid I couldn't remember how to read Japanese. But...I remembered. I thought to myself, 'It's not every day a girl gets such a beautiful gift, only to have it out-shined by the note'."

Himura's smug grin returned and he reached across the seat and took her hand, squeezing her fingers between his own. "I want you to know how difficult it is to find a jeweler willing to sell an officer a bracelet after nine o'clock at night. I'm glad you enjoyed my poetry, but the words come easy when they are an expression of truth. A bracelet does not come so easily in the dark of night, so treasure the gift; and remember the words."

Evie's jaw clenched and her eyes threatened to spill tears and streak her make-up. She took a deep breath and leaned over the seat, pressing her cheek to his. "Thank you so much, Himura," she whispered in his ear.

He chuckled lightly and cupped her chin in his hand. "I'd rather be thanked with a kiss, but I don't want a repeat of me unsuspectingly acquiring your lipstick."

She laughed and leaned back into her seat. Kissing her gloved fingers gently, she reached across the space between them and touched her fingertips to his mouth. His smile was broad and, she was glad to note, _humble, _when she pulled away.

Their car pulled up directly behind the fuehrer's and parked. The distant chanting of Nazi Party members and supremacists rose above the din of the motorcade as the hierarchy exited their vehicles. Himura got out first, and reached in the door to help Evie to her feet. She tried with her whole being to fight off the feeling of disgust that being at these rallies evoked in her. Himura, seeing her discomfort and mistaking it for nerves, took her hand in his and placed it in the crook of his elbow, leading her over to the group of reigning Party members as they made their way to the dais where Hitler would address the crowds.

For two hours, the Fuehrer droned on about Aryan Purity and defeating "disease". Every other statement was answered with "Heil Hitler!" from the exuberant crowd; Evie was even asked to stand at one point for the crowd to recognize what Hitler referred to as "Aryan Beauty." She bit back a remark about her questionable lineage and forced a tolerant smile onto her face as she rotated next to the podium. To her surprise, Himura did not look amused at her body being put on display. His face took on a grim demeanor and only when she seated herself next to him again, did his mood seem to lighten. By the time it was all over and the crowds were parting for the exit, Evie thought if she'd had to endure this rally any longer, she very well may have taken that gun out of her holster and done something about it.

The car ride back to the manor was nearly as quiet as the previous one had been. Himura stared out the window most of the way, a grim, contemplative look marring his features. Evie sat across from him for a while, studying his expression and when she couldn't take it anymore, slid into the seat beside him. He started at her sudden movement and she slipped her arm into his and leaned against him.

"What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," he replied, forcing a smile to his face and lacing his fingers with hers. "Only that I'm not very happy about_ mein fuehrer _putting you on display like that."

"Because of that threat?" she prodded, staring unabashedly at his hard profile.

"Not only that... I don't think any woman should be put on display like a piece of chattel. Least of all, not one I hold in such high regard." He turned to meet her gaze finally and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Evie smiled to herself and rested her head on his shoulder. The rally seemed to have taken a lot out of her. She was asleep before they reached the mansion.

Himura gently lifted Evie from the back of the car, careful not to stir her, lest she wake up. He carried her bridal style through the halls of the mansion, up the two flights of stairs to her door, and balancing her carefully, he sifted through her small clutch till he found her room key. When the door swung open, the little maid's head popped out of the adjoining room's door and she looked in alarm at Himura so deftly maneuvering Evie's small frame through her door. He glanced at the older woman and lifted an eyebrow. "Sie ist schlafen," he whispered, hoping she would take the hint that he wouldn't be compromising Evie so long as she was asleep.

He toed the door shut behind him and deposited Evie on her bed, carefully removing her little uniform cap and the pins that held it to her mass of hair. He sat those aside on her dresser and then divested her of her shoes. He perched on the side of the bed and wondered at her; she just didn't seem to fit the profile she tried to live. He needed to dig into the threat they'd received on her life—it just didn't make any sense. He'd do that first thing in the morning, he decided, reaching out and brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her nose crinkled when he did and he had to bite back a smile when her eyes fluttered open and she damn near screamed when she saw him looming over her. She shot back against the head-board of the bed and immediately her hands went to her clothes, checking to see that they were still intact. It was dark in the room, however and when recognition finally seized her, she heaved a great sigh and her head lolled back against the wood.

"You scared the..._shit_ out of me!" she hissed, reaching out and pushing him against the shoulder. Himura rocked back and laughed.

"I scared your maid, too," he said, "when I brought you in here."

"The poor thing! She probably thought you were going to have your way with me!" Evie sat up and started unbuttoning the uniform jacket.

"What's to stop me, Meine Liebe?" he asked. Evie shucked out of her jacket and swallowed audibly.

"I suppose...not much?" she replied, feeling bold. Her gaze locked with his, and that infuriating cocky grin started to slide over his mouth again. He reached out and pushed her hair over her shoulder, and she realized with dismay that no matter what kind of moral misgivings she had about this whole situation, she was not going to come out the victor. She would enjoy the battle, though.

His eyes darted to her lips and she knew he wanted her to kiss him. Leaning over slowly, what she hoped was _provocatively_, she pressed her mouth to his, sliding her lips lightly over the curve of his own. A groan escaped his lips and he crushed her to him, opening his mouth over hers and forcing his tongue inside.

Evie gasped against his assault; she was fairly certain she'd never been kissed quite this way. His tongue pressed against hers, demanding her response and she gave it, no longer caring about the consequences. Himura's hand wrapped around her nape, forcing her into more intimate contact with his body; she slid into his lap obediently, reveling in the sensation of his calloused hands through her silk blouse. They roved over her back, sliding possessively up and down her spine, then he was pulling it free from her skirt and slipping his hands beneath, tickling her sides and stomach with his feathery touch. She shifted in his lap and, tearing her lips from his, pulled her leg over so she was straddling his hips. She reached up and slowly, deliberately, began unbuttoning the silk blouse while he stared in obvious admiration of what he saw. As she slipped out of that offending garment, Himura's hands came around her back and loosened the button and zipper on her her skirt. His lips went to her neck and her fingers laced in his hair, holding his mouth imprisoned there. He slipped her bra straps down and his mouth made a demanding path downward, suckling here and there across her collarbone and the tops of her breasts. Evie's breath was becoming ragged and she felt the obvious evidence of his desire pressing into her where she straddled him.

Himura stood up abruptly, relishing the feel of her shapely legs sliding down his body. He spent no time exposing the rest of Evie's body to his hungry gaze. She stood there, shyly, in her stockings and nothing else, waiting for him to finish undressing himself. He peeled his shirt away and even in the dark, she could see the distinct outline of scars crisscrossing his muscled torso. She bit back a gasp and reached out, pressing her fingertips to one and Himura stopped abruptly with his hands at his belt, wondering what she was about.

She stepped closer to him and slid her arms around his middle, pressing her lips to each terrible scar, an overwhelming emotion bubbling in her that she couldn't quite identify. They were jagged, deep; almost like the tribal work tattoos that she'd seen sailors come home with.

Realizing what she was doing, Himura grasped her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. "If you keep that up, this won't last very long," he chided her, pressing his lips to hers again in renewed fervor.

She leaned up on her toes and linked her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. His hands slid down her back and, cupping her bottom, he pulled her up to his waist, forcing her to lock her legs around his hips. He ground into her, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers, her breath coming out in little gasps as she whimpered against his mouth. He pushed her back into the wall beside her vanity and using that for leverage, made quick work of his fly. She rolled her hips against him, while he tore his mouth away from hers and his lips descended to her breasts; pushing them up with his hands and sucking fiercely on her nipples. She bit back a scream when he entered her; one swift plunge and he was inside her to the hilt. He rocked against her slowly at first, not certain if this was her first time. When her eyes rolled back and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, he was sure she was okay. He picked up his pace, grinding into her while she whimpered and moaned; he kissed her almost painfully, nipping at her lips and tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she tightened her grip, forcing his head back when the pressure began to build in her core.

Himura tore her away from the wall and maneuvering them back to the bed, he settled them down easily across it, never leaving her body. His thrusts were driving her mad; she rose up against each one, trying to match his movements. He groaned when she did and threw her leg over his shoulder, pounding into her with so much force, he distantly wondered if the bed would hold up. "I'll just have to go slow the next time around," he grinned, relishing her glassy expression as she strained against him.

Evie clasped him to her, her nails biting into the flesh of his back; she bit back a scream when she came. Her walls clenching around him was all Himura could take. He covered her mouth with his own as he spilled his seed inside her. Even as he collapsed by her on the bed and pulled her against his chest, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would not be getting much sleep tonight. His desire was already welling up within him again as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes.


	6. A Distraction

**A/N: This chapter is probably more "filler" than "plot" but it was a quick write and I even threw in some lemony-goodness to make up for the length...or lack thereof. Maybe I should say, "I hope Renji's _length_ makes up for the Chapter's length". Anywho! Thank y'all for reading; constructive criticism is welcome; and please, please review!**

Karakura Town

Kisuke Urahara greeted the two women promptly upon their arrival at the little "candy" shop in Karakura. Yuuki had met him a handful of times in the past and she smiled broadly when he ushered them inside and wrapped her in a brotherly hug.

"You know, that hat really doesn't do it for you," she chuckled as they parted and he grasped the ladies' hands in his own, leading them to the back of the store.

"Whatever do you mean, Yuuki, dear? I thought it was quite debonaire and suave..." he trailed off as they rounded the corner into the small sitting room where Tessai was preparing them all tea.

Rangiku laughed at their banter as Yuuki responded: "No, dear. _You_ are debonaire and suave. Quite possibly one of the handsomest men alive. That hat...is a _debacle_." Even Tessai choked back a laugh as he set the tea out on the table for them.

"I understand you need a gigai for a formal occasion?" Urahara prodded as he settled down next to Rangiku and distributed the tea.

"She does," Matsumoto offered, "and in a hurry. The wedding's still a few weeks off, but I want all the time in the world to _shop_ before then!"

Yuuki suddenly pictured a throbbing vein in poor Hitsugaya-kun's forehead as if he were present to hear her statement and she bit back a giggle.

"Well, I suppose I can whip up a passable body for you in short order. Would you be willing to have it molded today, since you two beauties are already here?"

"That was the idea," Rangiku whispered in mock-effrontery, delicately sipping from her tea cup.

They sat contentedly, trading stories about the past, sipping on their tea; Rangiku asked Urahara if he'd had anything to do with Ichigo's miraculous reappearance in Seireitei and of course, the man denied it—with a smug grin plastered on his face the entire time. After all the pleasantries, he led them further into the shop where his little work room was located and asked Yuuki to step over to an antiquated looking device, riddled with hoses and wires.

"Strip, please!" he ordered jovially, turning to make adjustments on the instrument panel.

"Hey, I didn't have to strip when you made _my_ gigai, Kisuke!" Rangiku challenged, plopping her hands on her ample hips and shaking her head at him.

"Oh, dear! Yes, you are correct! Oh, well. I tried..." he sighed, maneuvering a lever and twisting a knob. There was a strange scanning effect then, followed by a wire-frame model of Yuuki's body appearing on a screen in front of them. Kisuke studied it for a moment, then nodding to himself, assured them that he could have the gigai completed in the next few hours.

Rangiku, literally bouncing with glee, embraced the flustered shop-keep and the two women took their leave.

After a visit to Orihime Inoue at Rangiku's insistence, they strolled the streets of Karakura Town, scoping out shops that Ran-chan wanted to visit once Yuuki had a more _corporeal_ body. Rangiku went on and on about how well Inoue had aged and Yuuki agreed, she was a lovely middle-aged woman; but her tastes and apparent lack of common sense did not sit well with Yuuki. She understood that Inoue was never looked upon for her high intellect, however she found herself wondering what it was like to be trapped in a gorgeous body that lacked a brain for the entirety of one's life. She was a sweet woman, though, Yuuki admitted, and despite herself she kind of liked her. She knew that Matsumoto held her in such high regard because of their personal similarities, but Yuuki knew that beneath the "dumb blond" exterior, Rangiku Matsumoto was in fact a very intelligent woman.

Soul Society

Failing to be content lying in bed the remainder of his day, Renji discreetly made his way to the sixth division offices and decided that reclining in a chair, catching up on paper work, was a much more tolerable distraction than staring at his ceiling and thinking about all the things he could be doing to Yuuki on his downtime. He was still resting, he figured; there was no strenuous exercise or even really any strenuous _thought_ involved in filling out the documents that were strewn before him on his desk. They were simply evaluation sheets about each one of the squad members and since they had all been evaluated already, he just needed to sign them and drop them in the appropriate box on his taicho's desk. His concentration was shit, though, he lamented and several times he found himself leaning back in his plush chair and dozing.

The sun was setting behind the thick bamboo shades when he laid his head down on the pile of papers in front of him, telling himself he was just grabbing a power nap. He dreamed clearly, vividly; in a haze of strange truth that he'd never been accustomed to dreaming in before.

He was with Yuuki in the dream, except her hair trailed in thick tresses down her back and she called herself something different..._._

_ "Evie," he whispered into her ear as he held her to him. He was leaning over her, relishing the perfection of her naked form; he took one full breast in his hand and squeezed it, languishing the softness, and lowered his head to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hardened bud as she whimpered against him._

_ Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape and she directed his searching mouth over to the other breast, a deep sigh escaping her lips. When he'd lavished an equal amount of attention to each of the perfect globes, he trailed a line of fiery kisses down her abdomen, pausing to nip at her hipbone; sliding his rough hands under her bottom, he lifted her hips to meet his seeking tongue._

_ He chuckled against her moist warmth when he heard her bite back a scream and she grabbed the head-board for leverage against his assault; his mouth was doing something to her senses that she'd have never imagined before. He flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves there, then plunged it inside her, grasping her hips and keeping her immobile. She did scream this time—only it came out as a muffled "Aah!" and she reflexively clamped her thighs down on either side of his head. He laughed against her and, shifting his position in a blur, he plunged into her heat, the swell of his shaft bringing her to the edge almost immediately. He held still for what seemed to him an eternity, keeping her at the moment precisely before her climax. When her head lolled back into the pillows and her legs came up to wrap deliciously around his narrow waist, he rocked against her gently, wanting this time to be much more intimate than that desperate coupling they'd shared only a while ago._

_ His movements were slow and deliberate; he ground against her in measured movements, each thrust of his shaft bringing them closer and closer to that moment of completion. He leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth in a sweet imitation of the act itself. She moaned against his lips, and using her legs as leverage, began to pull her hips up to meet his thrusts. Her eagerness was driving him mad and that precise movement is what sent all his love-making plans down the drain the last time. He pulled out abruptly and sat back on his haunches; her pained look of abandonment brought a smile to his lips._

_ "On your hands and knees, Fraulein," he ordered, making a rotating motion with his right hand. Evie obediently rolled over, presenting her backside to his hungry gaze with a coy look over her shoulder. He trailed his fingertips over the soft skin and leaned over her, pressing biting kisses over her back and shoulder blades. His calloused hands clamped her bottom again, and spreading her wide, he guided his thick shaft back inside, confident that he could not lose control in this position._

_ His hands cupped her breasts, rolling the nipples between his adept fingers as he slid in and out of her tight warmth again and again. Evie was nearly in tears for want of relief, the overwhelming pressure building deep within her with his every stroke. She whined and clutched the bed sheets to her face to hide the escalating noise that was escaping her lips. "Please..."she whimpered into the linens, "I can't...take much more...Himura!"_

_ Satisfied that she had begged him, even if this time hadn't taken as long as he'd have liked, he pounded into fiercely, wanting her release to bring his own. With deft fingers, he reached around her and pressed into that throbbing bundle of nerves at her apex, rolling his fingertips over it; lulling her __straight to the edge and then pushing her over it. Her walls clamped down hard around his swollen length and it drew a loud groan from his chest when he spilled himself inside her. With a film of sweat over their bodies, they collapsed beside one another. He drew her into is arms and thought to himself that, now that he had her, how had he ever lived without her?_

Renji shot upright in his chair so quickly it dizzied him. With an audible gulp, he glanced at the drawn shades, trying to figure the time. Surely he couldn't have been out too long, he reasoned...it was only one dream. _Dream?_ He thought. _Didn't feel like any dream I've ever had_; he sighed and glared down at the offending evidence. His hakama were decidedly tighter than before, his bulging erection pressing uncomfortably against the coarse fabric. He took a deep breath, then another, trying desperately to calm his traitorous genitalia, grateful the stoic Kuchiki was not in the office with him.

Karakura Town

After wandering somewhat aimlessly across Karakura for more than a few hours, Rangiku and Yuuki returned to the "handsome-but-perverted" shopkeeper's domicile to pick up Yuuki's new gigai.

Urahara ushered them back inside with all the same exuberance he'd displayed the first time around and presented them with an exact replica of Yuuki, minus the pointy ears. She was thrilled he'd thought of that, because it did not occur to her until after they'd left that pointed ears were not usually acceptable in normal society. She could get away with her coloring, writing it off to too much time in the sun; which is what the majority of people she came into contact with assumed, anyway. If they'd studied her skin very closely, they'd have discovered the tiny flecks of gold that ran rampant in her father's fur were present on her own body. Urahara had apparently noticed this strange hue but instead of not duplicating it, he told her, "Bronzing powder. If anyone asks, you use bronzing powder."

He'd put the faux body in a simple black sundress, with black Roman-style sandals that laced up her shapely leg to the knee. "Have you ever used a gigai, Yuuki?" he asked, positioning himself between her and her new body.

"No, actually. I've never had to. I understand the principle, though. Restorative for your powers; don't stay in it too long, or you'll meld to the body, etcetera. How, um..._accurate_ are these things, anyway?"

"They are fully functional down to the most Biblical sense of the word," he assured her, hiding his teasing smile behind his ever-present fan.

Satisfied wholly with the outcome of their expenditure, Yuuki and Rangiku left the shop, ready to do some hard-core spending.

Their first stop was for lingerie that—to Yuuki's amusement—seemed to be the highest priority on Rangiku's list. She personally did not spend large amounts of her time thinking about the uses of pretty panties, but Matsumoto believed that a woman's underwear had to be as striking and/or elegant as her outerwear. Plus, it was just more fun to take it _off_.

The shop that they entered was a fancy little boutique with an enormous amount of _pink_ everywhere they looked. Glancing at the name of the shop emblazoned on the wall, Yuuki chuckled to herself.

"What's funny?" Rangiku asked, her full attention on a black and red lace number that she'd never be able to fit her breasts into.

"I was just thinking...about the shop's name," Yuuki replied, not really wanting to mention it lest she upset her friend.

"Well, spill it!"

"Uh...Victoria's not doing a very good job keeping her 'secret'."

Rangiku laughed but rolled her eyes, knowing that Yuuki was less than comfortable in the boutique, but not really caring. Yuuki would be a better sport once she talked her into trying on some of the wares—if only so she could use that to throw her relationship with Renji in her face and see the reaction. Not that Matsumoto cared if they were seeing each other; on the contrary, it _delighted_ her. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd walked in on them locking lips in the hospital even if they _had_ jumped apart before she could actually _see_ it.

Pulling the black and red lace bra off the rack, she presented it to Yuuki and said, "Here, I think this may be more your color than mine... I need something in teal, I think..."

Yuuki took the bra, one eyebrow arched as her only response, and returned it to the rack. Intending to leave it there, she cast a glance over her shoulder at Rangiku who was studying her from the next rack while shuffling through some different shades of blue matching sets. Rolling her eyes, Yuuki rifled through the bras until she found one she thought may fit. She'd never bought a bra before and she had no idea which size meant what. She lifted her quarry up so Matsumoto could see she'd only exchanged it for a smaller one, and satisfied, Rangiku returned her attention to the selection before her.

They rummaged for at least an hour—Rangiku consistently handing some flimsy piece of underwear to Yuuki at every opportunity; Yuuki rolling her eyes, but accepting the garments; frequent trips to the fitting room where Yuuki discovered she was apparently a 34-C in bra sizes and a 6 in panties. Not that she understood what exactly that all meant, but Matsumoto seemed impressed, telling her that she'd no idea Yuuki's breasts were actually _that_ big. Yuuki cast a doubtful eye down to her chest and shrugged. She'd certainly never received any complaints about them, she assured her friend; she was thankful she didn't sport Rangiku's enormous rack.

She helped Matsumoto find a beautiful teal neglige that she thought matched Toshiro's eyes perfectly; Matsumoto insisted she buy a red jacquard corset trimmed in black lace with matching panties and black fishnets top it off. Yuuki quite honestly didn't see herself ever wearing it, but if it would shut Rangiku up about red being "her color" then she'd freaking buy it.

No sooner than they had exited that ridiculous store, they were greeted with familiar shouts of "hello" from across the street. Yuuki looked over in surprise at Rukia's miniscule frame; she was flanked by Nanao and Nemu—who looked lost as ever—and standing directly in front of a more _modest_ style shop that seemed to only cater to the standard "outerwear" portion of fashion. This was where she needed to go, Yuuki thought bemusedly, and the hell with Matsumoto. She started across the street and Rangiku trailed behind her, happy no matter what store they decided to shop in next.

In this boutique, they all found acceptable dresses for Rangiku's wedding; Yuuki actually found some underwear she wasn't ashamed to purchase; Nanao and Rukia argued over what looked better on Nemu; and poor Nemu stood there and let them. Yuuki thought she was going to die before it was all over. She had no idea that shopping like this could actually be _fun_.

It was quite late when they decided to call it quits and find somewhere still willing to serve them dinner. Loaded down with bags of goods from every conceivable outlet within a ten mile radius of downtown Karakura, the ladies headed toward a glowing neon sign that read "Karaoke Bar and Grill. Dinner's Always Served."


	7. Bomben Weg

Berlin, Germany 1939

Christmas in Berlin was an abomination of tradition. There was snow, it was cold, and nearly everyone celebrated in the same manner as the rest of the world with tinseled trees and carols and cider; but the bleak surroundings and the gray matte facades just seemed to drag everything about the season to a dead halt. Himura glanced furtively at the tidy little tree someone had decorated in the corner of his office. There was one nearly identical to it in every room of the manor; he detested it. So mechanical, these Nazi bastards, he thought; so presumptuous of them to take liberties in his personal space. Not that he didn't like Christmas; he loved it. But he wanted to spend it with his family; he wanted to be with Evie in London; he wanted to decorate his own damn tree with the ones he cared about, not have a prefabricated reminder that he could not do as he pleased with those he cherished.

He was developing a headache and he slapped the manilla folders on his desk closed with a resounding sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose against the pain. He'd been searching for leads on the threat of Evie's life for weeks. Of course, he chided himself, if he could stay away from her for more than one night, he may have found something by now. It was well past midnight and he'd actually sneaked away from her sleeping form to focus on the matter. His eyes opened to tired slits and he stared solemnly at the stack of folders still waiting for his attention. There was also a slight _predicament_ he feared may arise if he dug too deep into the matter. He did not want to expose Evie's Allied undertakings. He was very well aware of her covert status in the manor; he had been for some time now. If he managed to uncover a motive for her demise, neither of them could afford her exposure as an Allied correspondent...particularly since _he_ was her contact in the regime.

Another possibility had occurred to him as he was lying awake next to her sleeping form: what if the threat had come from an Allied agent who either presumed Evelyn Yukimura was in all realness a member of the Nazi party; or an agent that assumed she'd gone native due to her apparent relationship with a high-ranking member of said party. Himura had been in the military ranks for some time now; he'd worked his way up the ladder of the Hitler Youth and because his father was such a _notable_ fellow in the regime, he'd made high marks with the existing party members and rocketed to an officer's position. If that was the case, the offending agent would more than likely not be aware of Himura's own ties to the Allied Nations.

He desperately needed to explain to Evie the undercurrents of the whole matter. He knew that she had no idea who her contact was in the mansion; he _did_ know that she presumed her contact did not know her own identity. There was a middle man, of course. Someone who ferried the correspondences back and forth between them. He'd only discovered who Evie was shortly after the night he'd gone to buy the bracelet. It would have tasted a lie to say he was not overcome with relief when he realized that his darling Evie was an English spy. But it raised so many more concerns over her safety and even that of his own now that he knew the truth.

He fought off the need to go crawling back to her bed and slid another folder from the stack in front of his weary eyes. Flipping it open, he flew past preliminary reports on the suspect; a member of the propaganda outfit whose labels and medals and bars and cords out-shined his own, even a few years his junior. He was a handsome fellow; but there was something lacking in his eyes. The dark office did not lend merit to the darkness in his eyes in the photograph. It was as if there was no soul there, no light. The picture sent a shudder down Himura's spine. The man had been accused of crimes against the public; cited in particular was a brief forced sabbatical to a facility in the Alps where the officer was trained in varying medical facilities and shipped back to Berlin a year ago. He was currently in residence at a Berlin facility dealing with the criminally insane. Himura noted that the entire population of patients were all Jewish. Nothing in the file pointed toward a motive of intent; not even a glimmer of suspicion that the man could have ever been associated with Evie. But the photograph gave him the chills, so he slid the folder over to the suspect pile. Reclining back in his chair and stifling yet another yawn, he finally conceded to his need for rest and leaned over, turning off the desk lamp.

"That's all that I've managed to find..." Himura trailed off, lifting his coffee cup to his mouth. They were sitting in a bistro at the corner of a park, near the mansion. He'd informed Evie of every detail of his search, down to the stack of "suspect" files that likely had nothing to do with the threat. So far, he hadn't made his confession of being her contact with Allied forces, but he wanted to do that on the plane back to London.

After his scant hours of sleep the night before, he'd changed jackets and made a bee-line for the fuehrer's office that morning. Hitler knew of his and Evie's relationship, of course; he made a great joke out of it, in fact. Using her safety as the operative argument, he convinced Herr Wolf to let them hop a plane to London; she'd get to see her father for Christmas, and both of them could do some "reconnaissance" for the Axis Powers. Theoretically, it worked out in everyone's favor and Hitler could not deny the logic in Himura's course of action. The War was at a crucial point and Himura argued that having a "loyal" party member in the heart of London who happened to _be_ British could be very beneficial to the Reich. Hitler agreed and within an hour, a uniformed man knocked on Himura's office door with two tickets on the next morning's flight.

"I just don't see how anyone could find me threatening," Evie murmured, prodding her pastry with the tip of her finger. "Nazi or not, I'm just not worth the trouble."

"Someone thinks you are," Himura replied. "Evie, we're leaving for London in the morning. Sorgen Sie sich länger nicht."

"That's easy for you to say: 'Don't worry any more'. _You're_ not the one with the proverbial gun to your head..."

Himura looked at her with a raised eyebrow; he reached across the table and pulled the abused danish in front of himself. "Liebling, I spend every day with a proverbial gun to my head. That's what one gets for being a part of this _revolution_."

"I'm sorry, Dearest. It's just my nerves." Evie retrieved her pastry and popped a piece into her mouth.

"It's forgiven. We shall be in London tomorrow and the only thing hanging over your shoulder will he a handsome cad in an expensive suit," Himura teased.

"You _are_ a cad..." Evie's sentence was interrupted by the mechanical wailing of a bomb-raid siren. Her eyes widened in panic and Himura reached across the table and quickly snatched her out of her seat. Everyone erupted in a flurry of motion around them; the dull drone of airplane props were audible in the distance. Himura figured they only had a couple of minutes to get to a shelter. Luckily they were less than half a block from the manor.

Evie trotted three steps behind him, then hauled him to a stop, reaching down and ripping off the heels she was wearing. With a smirk, he grabbed her hand and they raced across the street amid the panicked population. The drone of bomber engines was getting nearer and in the distance the sickening thud and resulting explosion of the deadly projectiles was getting closer, as well.

Evie found herself praying to both her parents' gods as they rushed toward home. _Please, don't hit us, Please don't hit us; I'm ruining my nylons!_ She found herself laughing as Himura pulled her up the steps to the front door. He glanced dubiously at her over his shoulder, then shoved through the door and dragged her hysterical form toward the kitchen where the entrance to the bomb shelter was located. The cook that had given Evie the very same nylons she was deliriously praying for held the heavy door open for them and they squeezed through; the sirens still bayed ominously outside. Himura asked if everyone was there and the cook nodded emphatically. He pulled the door closed and gathered Evie in his arms, hurrying her down the deep stairwell that led to the dark safety of the shelter.

A single light bulb hung from the center of the ceiling and barely illuminated the populace of the room. Single-minded fear stared back at them from every pair of eyes. The bombs were very close suddenly; the building next door had been struck from the sound of it. The ceiling shuddered and bits of stone and dust shook down around them. Evie clutched Himura's jacket and buried her face in his chest. She was still laughing.


	8. Dames

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry about the pathetically short chapter that preceded this. I hope the length and contents of this chapter is an acceptable apology. Thank you for your reviews and for just reading the story. I never dreamed I'd have so many of you add this to your favorites! I hope I can keep your interest till the end... ^.^**

Soul Society

Hitsugaya rapped lightly on Renji's door. It was late, but he'd seen Renji finally retreat to his room scarcely an hour before. He'd thought it odd that Renji had opted for office work over rest, but perhaps paperwork had proved less frustrating than being forced to lie in wait for sleep.

There was a faint shuffling on the other side of the door; Hitsugaya thought he heard the shoji to another room slide open and then the footsteps toward the entrance got a bit louder. Renji cracked his door and peered out, damp strands of hair hanging limply over his face and obscuring his tattoos. He never ceased to marvel at Hitsugaya-Taicho's amazing change of height. He looked squarely into the aquamarine eyes that rivaled the clarity of Yuuki's own. "It's late, taicho. What's up?"

The door swung a little wider, allowing Hitsugaya to enter and Renji stepped back, throwing the towel he had in his hand around his neck. Hitsugaya made his way over to the tiny table toward the center of the room and settled down while Renji bolted the door again. "It's Rangiku and Yuuki. I thought they would be back by now. They left nearly thirteen hours ago."

Renji chuckled to himself and disappeared into his bedroom. "You know Matsumoto's penchant for spending, taicho. And you gave her a credit card with virtually no limit," he called from behind the shoji. He reappeared shortly, fully clothed, tying his hair back in a low ponytail as Hitsugaya was sure he'd never seen him do.

"I'm keenly aware of my so-called mistake, Abarai; I suppose it _is_ possible that they merely lost track of time."

"I understand your concern, believe me. But something tells me that if I run after Yuuki to make sure they're safe, it'll cost me blood."

Hitsugaya nodded thoughtfully to himself, then crossed his arms over his chest. "You are most likely correct. I overheard Kuchiki-Taicho telling Shunsui-Taicho that Rukia and Ise-san had _quote-un-quote _kidnapped poor Nemu and dragged her off to the real world to meet Rangiku and Yuuki."

Renji lifted an eyebrow and made a sweeping motion with his hand toward the front door. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Renji explained to the guard at the gate of the Kuchiki manor the reason for their visit and he and Hitsugaya were quickly allowed to enter. They made their way across the immaculate gardens to the front of the house where a servant swung the doors aside and showed them to the salon where they were asked politely to wait.

It was horribly late to be pressing a visit on the most distinguished captain in Soul Society, but to their amazement, Byakuya sauntered into the salon all flowing scarf and robes and demanded that they leave for Karakura immediately. Apparently, Rukia had agreed to call in periodically even though a curfew had not been imposed; however, she'd not contacted the manor in over six hours. Kurosaki had shown up at the mansion a couple of hours previous wondering where she'd disappeared to and Byakuya had fought against his facade of nonchalance and decided that action was in order. He called Kurosaki into the room and with mounting trepidation and just a smidgen of fear, the four went to seek out Shunsui-Taicho.

It only took a moment's apprehension to convince Shunsui that a search party was in order. Another moment's discussion decided they need not _bother_ Kurosutchi-Taicho with their deliberations and that if he was even _aware_ of Nemu's absence, he'd be thankful enough if they simply brought her home safely.

All this jumping from conclusion to hypothesis and back to deplorable conclusion was generally just making Renji laugh. He knew in his heart of hearts that every thing was fine with the girls. It genuinely warmed his soul that so many high-ranking officials (and friends) cared about them deeply enough to actually go against the set parameters of Soul Society statute and flood into the living world like knights on white horses; but he told himself he was just along for the ride. He needed some amusement in his life.

Karakura Town

_People are talkin'...Talkin' 'bout people..._

_I hear them whisper...You won't believe it..._

_They think we're lovers...Kept under covers..._

_I just ignore it...But they keep sayin'_

_We laugh just a little too loud..._

_Stand just a little too close..._

_Stare just a little too long..._

_Maybe they're seein'...Somethin' we don't, Darlin'..._

Nanao decided she'd either drank entirely too much, or her original assumption that Yuuki could sing had been startlingly underrated.

Yuuki did not just sing.

Yuuki _performed._

Rukia bumped Nanao with her elbow and made some snide comment about the song pertaining to her and Shunsui-Taicho's "relationship". Nanao was too engrossed in Yuuki's vocal ability to care. Nemu was steadily pushing back shot after shot of some bright green concoction that smelled like a fruit-cocktail mixed with gasoline. Matsumoto was "powdering her nose".

Yuuki had been on the karaoke stage for nearly an hour. Every time she tried to leave the patrons of the bar screamed and cat-called and begged for more. She'd sang Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, Evanescence; she'd put her own spin on "Life is a Boat" by Rie Fu; now she was down to Bonnie Raitt. If this kept up, she'd have to start taking requests. Her throat was getting sore, and though she secretly adored the attention, she really didn't know what was so special about her voice. She wondered if maybe everyone else was just so bad they couldn't tell the difference between someone who could just carry a tune versus real talent. Self depreciation aside, she was going to have to rest her vocal cords soon or they wouldn't be hearing _anything_ coming out of her mouth.

_Let's give them somethin' to talk about..._

_Let's give 'em somethin' to figure out..._

_Let's give 'em somethin' to talk about..._

_How about Love? Love...Love!_

Nanao reached across Rukia and nabbed one of the three shots of the noxious green liquid in front of Nemu and tossed it back. She looked at Rukia a little stunned and slurred: "It really _does_ taste like fruit-cocktail and gasoline!"

Rukia snickered and elevated her martini glass. "I'll stick with these, thanks."

"What's that?" Nemu asked, peering around Rukia's buoyant bob.

"It's a lemon-drop!"

"Ooh! I love those!" Nemu exclaimed, pivoting her head to look for their waiter. She spotted him and frantically motioned him over. He appeared, a bemused smile plastered on his face because he'd never imagined that the tiny woman would be capable of drinking as much as she had without becoming drunk and/or dying of alcohol poisoning.

When Matsumoto finally returned from the ladies' room, there was a fresh lemon-drop waiting for her and Yuuki was pleading into the mic with a scratchy voice that she needed to rest.

Rangiku thought Yuuki would have to fight her way off-stage, but the gracious crowd applauded loudly and consented to her departure. She plopped down in her seat, sweat beading on her forehead from the stage lighting. "Kami. I'm too damn nice."

Matsumoto nodded emphatically and the others chorused their agreement. "I would've told them where to stick it after the second song," Matsumoto informed her, sipping her lemon-drop. "Aw, who am I kidding? If I had your pipes, I'd have hammed it up as long as I could!"

Yuuki blushed a little and gratefully accepted the glass of ice water the the waiter brought her. She gingerly took a swig, reveling in the feel of it sliding down her sore throat. "What pipes?" she squeaked. "There are no pipes. I don't see what's so impressive."

Nanao's eyes rolled. "You've got to be kidding. You're like a cross between..." she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Ella Fitzgerald and Steven Tyler!" she exclaimed. "I couldn't believe it. I knew when I first met you...I knew when you opened your mouth to introduce yourself...the first time I heard your voice...I knew!"

"Knew what, Nanao?"

"That you could sing!"

Renji had picked up Yuuki's reiatsu as soon as the Senkai Gate opened in Karakura. Likewise, Ichigo had sensed Rukia; Shunsui, Nanao; and Hitsugaya knew instinctively that not only was Matsumoto in a bar of some kind, the girls were in no danger whatsoever.

Byakuya seemed to scent the air around them for a moment, tilting his face toward the heavens and pondering the smell of disaster. In uncharacteristic fashion, he reached out and patted Hitsugaya's shoulder once; nodded to Shunsui and stepped back through the gate. Shunsui stared after him for a moment, contemplating his own return then turned back to the younger shinigami. "Bring her home for me," he drawled, his smile taking up half of his handsome face.

"Drunk, if possible," Renji promised. Shunsui stepped back through the Senkai Gate behind Byakuya.

They arrived under the bright neon sign in short order, Hitsugaya's face twisting at the volume coming from within. The bellow of drunken patrons, the applause, the clinking of countless glasses; it all gave him a terrible headache. He didn't know what could be so wonderful about a place like this; places that drew Matsumoto like a moth to a flame. They filed in the establishment in their spirit forms, hoping that no mortal inside would be able to physically see them. That strange trend in Karakura had seemed to die away after the aging of Kurosaki's clan. None of the younger generation showed any outward signs of the level of perception that his friends had displayed. For that, they were all grateful. It meant the shinigami could go about their normal duties in mortal public without having to dodge and duck and wonder if they were or were not seen.

The three shinigami cut through the crowd toward the table of reckless females before them. The first thing Renji wondered to himself was, _Wow, that's an old song...that broad sure knows how ta sing!_ The second thing he realized was that Yuuki was not at the table with the other women. He glanced around the bar, searching simultaneously for the singer and the missing dame. When he found both—on stage—and obviously in _one_ body, his jaw dropped so far he was sure his chin hit his chest. He rolled his eyes to either side of his person and found Hitsugaya and Ichigo staring in gaping astonishment at the stage as well. _At least I'm not hallucinating._

"Who'd have thought..." Hitsugaya muttered, peeling his eyes off Yuuki and turning a decidedly _less_ affectionate glare at the mountains of shopping bags piled beneath the girls' table. "I'm going to be paying for this for the rest of my after-life," he whined, slapping his palm to his forehead. "Renji! Why did you let me send _her_ into the living world with _my credit card?"_ The sight was alleviated momentarily as they were surrounded in a fog of customers departing for the wet-bar since the singer was apparently down for the count. Yuuki didn't see them as she stepped off the stage and made her way to the table. Ichigo pulled Renji and Hitsugaya by their arms right back out the front door.

"Okay, so we know they're fine. As much as I'd like to bring them all home, don't you think they're gonna be pissed that we showed up just to force them to leave? They're gonna pull that '_You don't trust me!_' crap, none of us will get any for kami-knows-how-long, and _all_ of us are gonna be miserable for weeks!" Ichigo was just saying what they were all thinking. Hitsugaya knew it, too. Renji nodded in compliance.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, you're absolutely correct," Hitsugaya conceded, turning to Renji for a suggestion.

The red-head shrugged. "We got two choices. Go to Urahara's and get our gigai, waltz back in that bar, and pretend that we got bored and wanted to come hang out with them... _or..._"

"_Or_ what?" Ichigo demanded, planting his hands on his narrow hips in defiance.

"...Or, you can drop some balls and go tell them it's time to come home."

Ichigo and Hitsugaya exchanged telling looks and turned their eyes back to Renji who seemed to have just been elected some sort of leader in their macho gang.

"I like the second one better, but I think your first idea was probably the smarter one," Ichigo mumbled, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Hitsugaya shook his head slowly. "No. I know that's my fiancee in there but, danger or no, I'm not about to chop my manhood off and serve it to her on a platter. I have a say in her well-being and I know her well enough to know that if I don't take her back now, those girls will be dragging her well-shaped ass home on a litter because she can't stand up on her own."

Ichigo nodded. "You're right. And if I don't take Rukia back right now, she'll be mad that I didn't come looking for her because I was worried and I'll have to endure some random hand-drawn Chappy slide-show illustrating how if I _really_ cared for her, I'd have rescued her from herself or some shit like that."

Renji tried really hard not to laugh out loud at his friends. "God, I'm glad Yuuki's so low-maintenance!"

"You don't know, man," Ichigo warned. "_No_ woman is low-maintenance. She may not be as high-strung as most, but you've only just cracked the surface. Give it time, Renji! I promise." Ichigo nodded knowingly at Renji like he was the all-knowing guru of the female race. He pointed a tapered finger in Renji's face and wagged it. "_I promise."_

"You know, in all honesty, I figured the guys would be out looking for us by now..." Matsumoto muttered, digging through her purse for the glorious plastic card that solved all her problems. She located it and handed it to the waiter to pay the tabs. "I mean, I don't even remember the last time you called Bya-kun, Rukia."

"It got so late, I didn't want to wake him to tell him nothing. I should probably call the strawberry, though..."

"Shunsui _deserves_ to worry about me, what with all the crap he puts me through every day," Nanao sputtered, lifting her empty glass and staring forlornly at its lack of contents.

Nemu sighed and rolled her head back, smiling broadly. "I've had so much fun tonight. Kurosutchi-Taicho doesn't think to look for me most of the time but if he's noticed I've been missing this long, he'll likely beat me when I return..."

"Oh, God, Nemu! Why didn't you say something?" Yuuki exclaimed, reaching across the table and grabbing Nemu's hand.

"Because, it's nothing out of the ordinary," Matsumoto replied sadly. "She has her own will. She could've left at any time; yet she sticks to us like glue when she gets the chance and risks the beatings when she gets home. Whether we like it or not, he _is_ her father..."

"That sucks," Rukia supplied, yawning widely.

"There are no words to describe the amount of _suck_ in that relationship," Nanao remarked, finally setting her glass aside.

The waiter returned with Rangiku's card and a receipt that she tucked into a little pocket inside the purse where she'd been keeping all the receipts she'd been given that night. Hitsugaya would be so proud of her! She'd kept track of her spending just like he'd asked.

The girls all stood; wobbly and tired, but they _did_ stand; and gathered their respective bags and boxes. The waiter waved good-bye to them as they made their way to the door; Matsumoto had left a very generous tip.

"Come back ladies! Miss Komamura, you _must_ sing for us again!" the bartender bellowed across the room. Yuuki lifted her hand in a polite wave and nodded with the biggest smile on her face that she could muster.

"That reminds me," Nanao started, linking her arm through Yuuki's and pulling her against her side. "Why didn't you tell us you were so fluent in English? It's like there's no accent at all when you sing."

"Guess it never occurred to me you'd want to know. I was schooled very thoroughly at my academy. They insisted in languages, nearly as much as kidou and sword-play," she replied, leaning against Nanao as they walked outside..and directly into three shinigami having an argument about just _how_ they were going to bring the women back to Soul Society.

"Ahem," Rangiku cleared her throat pointedly and Hitsugaya and Ichigo spun around to face their doom. Renji, who had seen the women exit the building, crossed his arms over his broad chest and bit back as much of the grin spreading across his face as he could. "Don't suppose you could just _ask_?"

Yuuki, seeing the telling smile on Renji's face, knew immediately that this little shenanigan had not been his idea. He'd probably been content to let her come home on her own; he wasn't a stir-shit-up kinda guy. The look of utter mortification and _guilt_ plastered on Toshiro's face, however, lent credence to her thoughts that this had been _his_ idea. She didn't know Ichigo enough to judge, but he seemed like the kind of man that displayed the macho-frowny-facade, but was too scared of his woman to just up and jump across worlds to "check" on her. Whatever the reason, she thought the whole thing was too funny to hold Renji accountable for underestimating her ability to protect herself.

Nanao was still hugging her side and a glance to her right confirmed her suspicion: the woman had dozed off when she'd lain her head on Yuuki's shoulder. She had no idea how Nanao was managing to balance herself and nap in the heels she was wearing as drunk as she was. Yuuki was nice and floaty herself, but she'd spent much more time singing than drinking. Nemu was standing behind them, flat footed and emotionless as ever, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed slightly. If Rangiku hadn't had so damn many bags in her hands, Yuuki knew she'd plop them on her ample hips and stare Hitsugaya down into a puddle of frosty, guilty goo.

"Did you come because you were worried about me? Or were you worried about your credit card?" Matsumoto demanded, arching one perfectly plucked brow. "I'll have you know, I kept every single receipt I was handed tonight!"

"Huh?" Hitsugaya wondered aloud. "What do you mean, 'receipts'?"

"You told me to keep track of my spending! I did, Shiro-chan! I kept track of it all!"

He'd realized what she'd meant the minute he'd said 'receipts' and shook his head. Uncontrollable mirth was rising in his chest because he didn't know if she'd deliberately misunderstood his request to reign in her spending, or if she truly believed that keeping all the receipts would somehow make him happy. He laughed despite himself. It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. She would spend and he would pay for it; she would be his wife in a matter of days and she was the best damn vice-captain he could ever hope for—even if she _was_ worthless in the office. He loved her and they'd probably be flat broke in a decade, but he wanted her home, dammit.

"Can we please go back to Seireitei now?" he asked, gazing at her through lowered lids and turning up his pleading puppy look as high as he could.

Satisfied that it was the best response she could hope for, she nodded and started toward him, holding out bags for him to help her carry. He glanced at the other girls noting the ridiculous amounts wares with which they were laden. Nanao only had one bag over her shoulder, but she was dangerously close to drooling on Yuuki's shoulder at that moment. Nemu had no bags. No surprise there. Yuuki had several, but to his horror, as soon as Matsumoto's hands were empty, Yuuki began passing the bags to her. She kept only two for herself. Rukia had a stack of boxes in front of her that damn near obscured her entire upper half, with two bags hanging off of each wrist. Ichigo made for them, but she stopped him.

"Only one of these is mine," she warned. Ichigo's eyes cut to Hitsugaya's face and he tried not to laugh at the disappointment that registered there. "One is Nemu's. The rest..."

"Is Ran-chan's?" Ichigo finished for her and she nodded an affirmative. "Which ones?"

"The two boxes on the bottom are mine and Nemu's."

He took the rest of the stack from her and turned to Hitsugaya. "I'll follow you."

Renji reached out and instead of taking Yuuki's bags, helped her shuck Nanao from her side. "I promised Kyoraku I'd personally deposit her back home," he explained, sweeping her slight form into his arms bridal style. He graced Yuuki with a cocky grin and winked before flash-stepping away without another word. Nemu politely cleared her throat.

"We should go before a mortal sees us talking to a bundle of levitating bags," she mumbled.

Ichigo glanced around the street and nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right."

"We'll meet you back in Seireitei after we drop our gigai back at the shoten," Rangiku assured Hitsugaya; with a brief nod, he and Ichigo flashed off as well.

Back in Soul Society, Renji used his foot to tap on Kyoraku's door. It was well into the wee hours of the morning and he was actually surprised that the man answered. The door cracked and one side of the captain's face appeared, followed quickly by the rest of it when he realized what Renji was carrying.

"Goodness, goodness..." he mumbled, his smile spreading as he spoke. "Look what the fukutaicho dragged in." The door opened all the way, allowing Renji entrance. He laid Nanao down gently across a futon-style sofa in Shunsui's living area and turned back to the older man.

"I'da been back with her an hour earlier if I hadn't had ta wake Urahara up ta get her out of her gigai," Renji explained, stretching his arms out over his head and choking back a yawn. "Anyway, safe an sound...and drunk, as promised."

"Abarai, my friend, you are as loathsome and disreputable a character as myself," Kyoraku congratulated him.

"Well, I said she'd be drunk. I didn't promise ya you'd be able to wake her up."

Renji fought with himself for a while over going straight home or showing up unannounced at Yuuki's door. He thought they'd taken their friendship to the next level, but as badly as he wanted her, he was afraid his _exuberance_ may push her away. He finally decided against it, making his way through the quiet practicing grounds that separated one division from the next. He desperately needed sleep and he realized that Yuuki was most likely exhausted from her sojourn into the living world. Passing through the Senkai wasn't exactly a walk in the park in and of itself; she'd been towed through downtown Karakura for Kami-knows-how-many hours and spending extended amounts of time in a gigai tended to sap your every-day strength, regardless of how well it boosted your spirit-powers.

He trudged through the sixth division grounds and tried not to drag his feet too loudly as he walked through the barracks' corridors. He wondered distantly if Rukia and Nemu had made it home all right as he pushed through his door. He took two steps into his room and his face twisted in confusion. Turning, he peered through the darkness at the front door he'd just entered. _I know I locked that when we left,_ he thought, his hackles rising quickly. He reached for Zabimaru at his hip, and felt the comforting grip of the worn handle in his grasp. His eyes cut through the darkness, his reiatsu flaring up a bit. He scented the air around him; a wispy perfume lingered in his room. He recognized it immediately. _That little imp...she can pick locks, too?_

"What took you so long?"

Renji spun around to face the intruder. She'd made herself comfortable, too; perched on the edge of his futon, her legs curled beneath her.

"Had to wait on Urahara," he replied, unbelting Zabimaru and propping the zanpakuto in the corner.

She knew the huskiness in his voice was probably more due to the exhaustion he felt and not any uncontrollable desire he may feel for her, but it sent shivers down her spine, nonetheless. She carefully unfolded her legs from beneath her and stood. "I know you weren't responsible for the so-called rescue party, but I wanted to thank you for being concerned enough to tag along," Yuuki offered, leisurely making her way up to his rigid form. She saw him visibly relax when she reached out and took a fistful of his kosode in each of her hands. He stared down at her, a questioning in his amber eyes, but he said nothing, waiting for her next move.

She leaned up on her toes, using his clothing for leverage, and gingerly pressed a kiss to his smooth cheek. He blinked uncertainly when she pulled away and sensing that he really didn't know what to make of her breaking into his home to _thank_ him for an action she wouldn't normally be fond of, she loosened her grip on his shihakusho.

_If you don't respond, you idiot, she's gonna waltz right out your door! _his mind screamed at him. Well, maybe not his _mind_...that was pretty foggy.

The dream he'd had earlier that day flashed behind his eyes and he groaned aloud, reaching out and pulling Yuuki against his chest. Leaning down, he devoured her mouth like a starving man, muffling her startled gasp against his lips. Pivoting, he crushed her between his hardened body and the wall, his hands searching, roving up and down her sides and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself up helplessly against him. Questing calloused hands found their way to her waist and Renji made quick work of the knot in her obi, letting it slip through his fingers to the floor. His hands parted the white fabric of her kosode and slid inside; she tore her mouth away when she felt him drag his fingertips over her taut stomach and settle on her hips.

Yuuki took a deep breath and let her head roll back against the wall; she lifted her gaze to his and though he didn't know what possessed her to stall, Renji couldn't find a trace of hesitation in her aquamarine eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, not daring to move or look down at what the parted kosode offered up to his hungry gaze.

Yuuki unconsciously pulled her lower lip between her teeth and mused, "Just seems like this has happened before..."

"I think it has," Renji replied, lowering his mouth to hers once more.

Yuuki's fingers slid into the hair at his nape and untied the cord that held it back; it tumbled down around his face and shoulders and back and she luxuriated in the silken softness of its mass. Turning her face away from his, she trailed a line of open mouthed kisses along his square jaw, down his neck to his pulse and sucked lightly as he groaned beneath her lips. Grabbing her chin, he leveled her mouth to his own again, plunging his tongue inside the wet heat; his hands slid the kosode off her shoulders and frantically untied the himo at her hips. He tore his mouth away from hers to look down at the bounty before him. His mouth watered at the sight of her, a banquet laid out for a starving man.

She was lean and muscled, her slender form hardened with decades of laborious training. She had a dancer's legs, all angles and smooth lines; flared hips that his huge hands rested on, his thumbs pressing against the sensitive nerves on the jut of her hipbones; his fingertips nearly touching each other in the small of her back. Her vine-work tattoo covered nearly all of her left breast, flowing in intricate spirals to the nipple and flaring upwards at her shoulder and then over it, snaking down her left arm. It resembled a pauldrin and bracer; as if she were some medieval knight wearing an armor of ink on her slight form.

Renji barely registered that she was undressing him as he marveled at her naked form. She peeled the shihakusho off his body slowly and deliberately, running her hands over every patch of hardened muscle she could reach as she exposed him. She ran her fingers lightly over the tribal design on his abdomen, making the muscles jump reflexively in response. Hakama were terribly loose, flowing garments and Renji's erection strained noticeably against the fabric; Yuuki wondered fleetingly what she'd gotten herself into as she untied the himo and let them drop to the floor. She couldn't hide her startled gasp as his shaft sprang free. _He'll tear me in two!_ she thought to herself, gaping at his erection. He must have seen the fear in her eyes because he suddenly burst into laughter at her expression.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle..." he promised, leaning his face down and capturing her lips in a tender kiss. His hands cupped her round bottom and he lifted her to his waist, silently urging her to wrap her legs around him. She braced her back against the wall and the stifling heat of his manhood nestled between her thighs. His skin was so hot; everywhere he touched her left heated imprints on her skin, the gold flecks in her coloring glittering in the sheen of sweat covering her body and the listless moonlight slanting in through the window.

His mouth made its descent along her throat, pausing at her collarbone where he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the edges of her tattoos; continued downward where he cupped her full breast and pushed it up to meet his scalding tongue. He suckled her until she was writhing against him, her wet heat slick against his cock, sliding over it, breaking his concentration. He moved his attention to her other breast, but grasped her hips in his rough hands and forced her to be still. She whimpered and held fast to his crown, not knowing if she wanted to pull him away or keep him imprisoned there. His right hand slid around her hip, grabbing a cheek and giving it an almost painful squeeze before continuing under and he slipped two fingers into her. She gasped and he lifted his face finally, an arrogant smirk plastered on his wide mouth. She kissed it off him as he pumped his fingers inside her; adding a third, then pulling away to massage the bundle of nerves just above her entrance. She was ready for him, he knew; her juices ran down his fingers and pooled in his hand. He removed his toying fingers and lifted her slightly, positioning her directly above his pulsing shaft. She held her breath unconsciously, waiting for the piercing pain she thought would accompany his marble-hard cock. Renji slid into her slowly, savoring the feel of her tight warmth, biting back a moan as she clenched around him in anticipation. He inched in, then slid back out; repeating the motion until he was sure she could handle his girth. When she started panting and rocking against him, he knew he'd done well to prepare her. He plunged into her, burying himself to the hilt. He rocked his hips against her and she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut against the pleasure as he ground into her. He caught her mouth again, muffling her whimpers and cries so his fellow shinigami in the adjoining rooms couldn't hear her.

Yuuki was sure that he was so deep inside her, he was touching some vital organs. Renji was a large man, reaching over six feet, but she'd never seen anything like _that_ before. She was trying her damnedest to be quiet, but each thrust was like a fireworks display behind her closed eyelids. Every one of his strokes ground into that tiny ball of sensation at her center. Each and every motion Renji made brought her closer and closer to the edge. She thought she had tears running down her cheeks from the pleasure; that there was so much she couldn't quite take it all in. Renji felt them as they left hot trails down her face; he pressed his forehead to hers, smiling wanly, never ceasing his constant rhythm. He understood the well of emotions he'd opened up inside her. He had them, too. Yuuki was in no means the first woman he'd been with; but never in his life had he imagined that making love could seem to tear at your soul at the same time you felt so euphoric and complete. It was getting harder to control his movements, he realized; he was perilously close to the end. She was trembling and quaking against him, burying her face in his neck as they moved in tandem, seeking their completion.

Renji stilled his movements and took her away from the wall, turning and gently lying her down on the futon. He pulled away completely, and she moaned at the separation of their bodies. Yuuki stared up at him as he settled over her, reaching her arms out and looping them around his neck as he lay atop her. His knee nudged her thighs apart and he drove in again, the forcefulness of it spilling his red mane over them both. She pushed the hair out of his face as he leaned down, brushing his lips across hers gently. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth and sought the warm wetness of his. Her legs came up and locked around his narrow waist; his hands lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. She rocked against him in wild abandon, the pressure building quickly again, threatening to spill over like an erupting mountain.

She cried out when she came, but the sound of it was lost in Renji's mouth amidst his own muffled groan. Her walls clenched around his rigid shaft, milking him as he poured his seed at the mouth of her womb. His arms buckled and he caught himself on his elbows on either side of Yuuki's head; he nuzzled her neck and rolled to the side, pulling her against him as he went. She curled around him in the afterglow and they were both asleep within moments.


	9. Aftermath and Confession

Berlin 1939

They walked the streets forlorn, picking through the rubbish and the debris. Whether for valuables or loved ones, she didn't know; Evie had never witnessed so much destruction in her short life. The horror stories that Himura had told her in the dark of night about war and all its casualties had not done justice to the state of carnage that she beheld. She was glad that she'd been prepared for it.

A tiny girl in a faded brown coat rushed to her side and desperately asked if she'd seen her mother, and tears welled up in Evie's eyes. Her own hand went reflexively to her belly and she strained to somehow feel the life growing within her—the life she had not yet spoken of to her lover. She took the child by the hand and knelt down, stroking her wavy blond hair; hair so much like Evie's own, she could not control the tears any more and they slid in dusty streaks down her cheeks.

"Nein, Liebling, but we can look for her," Evie said softly, straightening and letting the little girl tug her over to what Evie presumed were the remnants of her home. She nearly screamed when she felt the press of a hand in the small of her back.

"It's all right. It's only me," Himura assured her, glancing down at the child. "I'm so very sorry..."

"For what? It's not as if you have control over the RAF," Evie replied.

The child tugged her hand away and got down on all fours, peering underneath a pile of rubble. "_Mutter?_" she called, her tiny voice echoing back to her from the darkness. "Sie ist nicht dort!" she called to Evie, standing and brushing the dirt from the front of her frock.

"If she's not there, we must look somewhere else, liebling," Evie called back, holding her hand out to the child.

"I know her," Himura offered. "Her father is a fellow officer. We can take her back to the mansion and wait for him there. He was away on a short trip, but I'm certain he'll be back soon after he hears of this."

"Thank God," then to the child, "Come, darling! We're going to my house to wait for your _vater_!" The child returned to the nice lady and the man that dressed like her father and turned her round face upward to the gray sky.

"Did they take her away?" she asked, reaching her hands to the heavens. Himura leaned down and swept the child up into his arms, propping her on his hip. He stared very sternly into her face and gently touched his forehead to hers.

"I do not know for sure, liebling," he said very quietly; he found himself choking up a bit. What force could deem it necessary to take a mother from her child? "But I am friends with your _vater_ and I am certain that he will be very happy to see you again."

The mansion was intact, but for the molding that the vibrations of explosions had cracked in the foyer. The child leaned against Himura's shoulder, her eyelids drooping and tear-stained cheeks reddened from the cold. He carried her up to Evie's room and sat her lightly on the chair at the vanity; he stood and pressed a kiss to Evie's cheek. He patted the small girl on the head as he left; he had calls to make if the lines were back up and officers to organize into recovery parties.

The mansion was always alive with activity, but the frantic pace of its denizens boggled the mind. Himura made his way as quickly and as carefully as possible to his office where he pulled open his desk drawer and pulled out the plane tickets. He picked up the receiver and listened for a tone; he was surprised that he got one. He dialed out to the operator who connected him with the airport. If all was well and the runway and planes had not been hit, he was still going to take Evie out of Berlin in the morning.

After a few rings, a gruff German voice greeted him through the earpiece. He was quickly informed that the airport was closed indefinitely and that the offices of the fuehrer would be refunded the currency for their expense. If Himura wished, however, the man knew of an airstrip at Schwerin-Parchim—about 175 kilometers away—that was currently housing an airship. It was a risk, but an airship needed no runway and with the correct leverage, _could be_ headed for London in the morning. With a clipped tone, Himura told him to contact his man about it and left the number to his office where he could be reached. He sat tiredly at his desk, resting his face on his folded arms for a moment before taking the top file off his stack of suspects and opening it again, staring at the cold smiling face with the soulless eyes in the photo.

He abruptly flipped the folder shut and picked up the receiver again. Dialing Evie's room, he absently tucked the plane tickets into his jacket pocket. Evie picked up the phone after a few rings; she sounded slightly winded.

"Yes?" he heard her answer and then to the side of the mouth piece as if she was talking to someone in her room, "_I can't believe the phones are up already..._"

"I've made new arrangements," he started; there was a knock at his door. "I'll be back up shortly," he said by way of apology, then hung up. He rose from his desk and called for the visitor to enter.

To his astounding relief, it was the child's father that came in. "Franz! You're back so soon, I thought the roads would be harder to navigate. Your daughter is upstairs."

The tall man heaved a great sigh of relief and a hand flew to his face. Himura knew he was hiding the flood of tears that had escaped; he dared not ask if the man knew his wife's fate. He silently bade Franz follow and led him to Evie's room. A polite knock on the door and a comforting grip on the man's shoulder was all Himura could really do. The door creaked open slightly and Evie peered out. She was still terrified, Himura could see, but she was holding together better than some seasoned warriors he knew. She turned her head and called to the child; the door was flung open and the little girl launched herself into her father's arms. "We must go find _Mutter_!" she cried, clinging to the man's neck.

"Yes, mein liebling, we must."

Franz thanked Evie politely and left. Himura let himself into the room, turning and bolting the door behind him. He guided Evie over to the bed and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his chest. "I made new arrangements," he began again, pressing his lips to her hair. He inhaled her deeply; he had a foreboding building in his gut and somehow every waking moment he felt the deepest need for her company. "There is an airstrip at Schwerin-Parchim, about two hours away. We'll leave early in the morning. I'll have to grease some palms but getting out of here is the best thing for us...permanently."

"But your work!" Evie exclaimed, her face shooting up to meet his. "Your life is here. I don't expect you to uproot everything just-"

Himura cut her off. "We're leaving. End of discussion. There are some things..." he trailed off, realizing that there may very well be ears in the walls. Instead, he rose from the edge of the bed and made his way to her vanity table, pulling out her jewelry drawer. Evie sat up a bit straighter, wondering what he was about; he took the drawer all the way out and sat back down on the bed next to her. Carefully removing the contents and laying them out on her pillow, he turned back and pressed his thumb against a corner of the false bottom, causing it to pop up. Her eyes widened and she looked at him with a mixture of horror and surprise. Without a word, he replaced it, then deliberately put every piece of jewelry back in it exactly as he had taken it out. He got up and slid the drawer back into the vanity and stuffing his hands in his pants pockets he told her covertly, "I loved the letters you sent me."

She didn't understand why, but it seemed like she had a penchant for tears lately. She felt them streaming down her face for the third time in the last twenty-four hours. "I'm so glad!"

Morning came all-too-soon for Evie who hadn't slept a wink. She rolled over at the familiar knock of her maid, her hand sleepily searching for the man that had shared her bed nearly every night for some months. He wasn't there, of course; he'd told her as he'd left last night that he had urgent preparations to make and he would send Millicent to wake her five.

After the child had gone and Himura had made his silent confession to Evie about his role in Allied affairs, she decided that an immediate removal of their persons was indeed in order. They had simultaneously come to the conclusion that whomever was responsible for the threats on her life had to be intercepting correspondences from their Allied contacts. Neither could comprehend how long this interception had been occurring, but it was the only explanation they had for the lack of warning about the bombing. For hours, they whispered into the darkness to each other, the only light coming from the small lamp by the bed. Himura even admitted to her that his "ailing mother" had actually been a trip behind "enemy" lines disguised as a personal excursion. He'd needed to deliver the documents containing the initial threat on her life to Allied intelligence. His mother had safely and secretly defected to England two years previous.

It was nearly one in the morning when Evie finally undressed and stretched out in her bed; Himura lay beside her for only a few moments before he stood and pulled a suitcase from the bottom of her bureau. "Pack only what you need. Leave the rest. I'll be back for you in a few hours." He'd leaned over her, bracing his hands on opposite sides of her head, lowering his mouth to hers. He'd kissed her deeply and a vague smile appeared on his lips. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "God help me, I love you, Evelyn Yukimura. And don't think I do not know that you are keeping something from me. But you will tell me on our way, will you not?"

She'd had no choice but to answer in the affirmative. "I was planning on it, you know. Kiss me again and tell me everything will be fine?"

Himura chuckled and obliged her, pressing a hard kiss to her lips, then a softer one to her forehead. "Everything will be fine."

Millie's head peered through the crack she'd made in the entryway when she'd cautiously unbolted the door. "Miss? Please be awake..." Evie heard her mutter, more to herself than anything, she presumed. "Mr. Eberhardt sent me to wake you..."

"I'm awake, dear. Come in; bolt the door, dearest, and..." Evie sat up and threw the sheets off, "sit down, please," she finished in a whisper. She had to try and explain to Millicent what was going on. The woman had been so painfully loyal since she'd been here; Evie thought she deserved to at least know that she was about to be one mistress short.

Millicent shuffled into the room, her hands nervously clutching and then smoothing her fresh apron. She paused at the vanity, looked uncertainly at the small chair there, then perched on the edge of it as if she was preparing for flight. Evie stood and threw on her dressing robe, making her way over to the suitcase and the bureau. "Millie, dear, I've something to tell you. A couple of things, truth-be-told; things I think you need to hear." She opened the bureau and absently started plucking out various articles of clothing.

"Yes, Miss," Millie started, but apparently that was her entire statement because she never finished her thought. Evie gave her a few seconds, then picked up where she'd left off.

"First and foremost: Mr. Eberhardt and I are going on a vacation," Evie explained. "There have been a few recurring threats on my welfare and Himura thinks it necessary to remove me from the center of attention."

"I understand, Miss Evie. Where is he...removing...you to?" she asked, staring at her lap and fidgeting with the hem of her apron.

"We're going to my father's in London. The fuehrer is aware of our trip, so don't fret. You won't be possessed of any information that isn't public knowledge. At least, not that part of it." Evie checked herself suddenly about admitting to the maid the _permanence_ of the vacation. Something was horribly wrong about Millicent's demeanor, in fact. The normally bubbly, even mother hen-ish woman was acting like she was facing a firing squad. Evie instantly regretted opening her mouth. At least she hadn't let anything explicitly valuable slip.

Her pause must have put the other woman on edge because Millie blurted, "What's the other part, Miss?" She looked as if she'd startled herself. Her eyes were wide and her fingers gripped the hem of her apron so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Evie studied her for a moment before answering. She'd intended to tell Millicent about the zeppelin, her pregnancy; even about the false bottom in the vanity. She decided telling Millie she was pregnant was the least conspicuous option of the three. If Millie was being used by the would-be assassin, or to gather information of some other sort, perhaps being in the state she was in would keep her alive a little while longer. "Himura and I are going to have a baby," Evie said flatly. She knew that her expression gave away her suspicion. She expected it to. She knew in her heart of hearts that Millicent was as innocent as a person could be, but that didn't exempt her from being used—whether she knew it or not.

Millie's answering smile relieved Evie more than she thought possible. It said all the things that couldn't be said aloud, all at once. That Millie was happy...proud; that she knew that Evie knew that she couldn't say all the things she wanted to say. She simply stood and walked to Evie; wrapped her arms around the slender woman in a motherly hug. Wordlessly, she started helping Evie pack.

An hour later, Himura knocked lightly on her door. Evie sat ready, next to Millicent, on the edge of her bed; her coat on, her suitcase packed, her fedora perched on her blond mane. Millicent's hand rested comfortingly on Evie's knee and she nodded to Himura with a knowing smile on her face, then stood and silently left the room.

"Does she know something that I do not?" he asked bemusedly, reaching down and hefting Evie's luggage.

"Yep."

With a smile and a shake of his impossibly red head, he led her downstairs and outside to a waiting car. With her recent confession still fresh on her lips, Evie decided she couldn't wait any longer to tell Himura about his impending fatherhood. She just hoped that he'd like the idea as much as she had.

He tossed her suitcase into the trunk and walked around the car to open the passenger door for her. With the door between them as she stepped toward the seat, she leaned up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his unsuspecting mouth. "Dearest, can I tell you now, instead of en route?" There was a telling smile lingering on her lips, and her words were rushed. Himura found himself grinning back.

"Your secret? Of course; tell me now."

She grasped the lapel of his jacket and pulled his face down to hers. Another soft kiss and she whispered into his mouth, "Darling, I'm pregnant."

He kissed the smile off her face. "I know. I just wanted to hear it from you."

"You liar!" she laughed, pulling away. "How?"

He cast a knowing glance at her belly and cupped her chin in his gloved hand. "You _glow_."

"Impossible."

He tried his best to keep from laughing out-loud. "Fine. You glow...and when you're lying naked in my arms at night..." he trailed off, drawing her face closer to his own, "it sort of looks like you've swallowed your meal whole."

She gasped in laughing outrage as he covered her lips with his own.


	10. Realization

**A/N: Beware! Citrus Alert Directly Ahead! On another note: I've put quite a bit of dialogue in this chapter (at least I **_**think**_** it's quite a bit) and since I really have no experience with Renji's English voice-over, he may sound a tad...red-neckish. There aren't any "Hey Y'all!"s or "Youn'too"s, so don't panic. He just...seems to abbreviate frequently. And if you're wondering what exactly a "youn'too" **_**is**_**, reference Jeff Foxworthy's "You Might Be a Redneck" vocabulary. As always, Thanks So Much for reading and the praise I've received far out-weighs the worthiness of this brain-fart!**

Soul Society

Propped on his elbow, Renji lay behind Yuuki, studying the intricacy of her many tattoos. He'd been so enamored with _her_ he'd failed to notice that the calligraphy of vine-work on her breast and arm was not the only piece of art her body sported.

He gently traced a path across her ribcage, down to the flowing curve of her left hip; splayed his hand over the elaborate floral patterns on her side. It was tied into the vines, he realized, as if this garden on her body gave birth to restless cords of flora. The vines in turn gave birth to kanji, partially framing a verse in the middle of her back. He strained to read it in the faint light.

_Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth;_

_Let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth..._

_Proverbs 24:17_

He pondered the meaning of it briefly; was it not, in essence, what any warrior was taught from an early age? He recognized the reference, of course. It was not a book prevalent in Soul Society but he had seen them and even read one during his time with the living. The Great Savior mythology was the tale of a thousand nations, woven into the religions of the world. He wondered to himself if the passage had some other meaning for Yuuki; Christianity did not teach reincarnation, so he found it highly improbable that she had grasped for faith at any time in her past. Perhaps she just liked the verse. It did make a viable point, especially in their line of work.

His hand traveled over the kanji, down to the small of her back. He brushed his knuckles over the butterflies that seemed to be making their way to the garden on her side. All of her tattoos seemed to tie into one another; the butterflies started on her right thigh, flitting upward and over; dozens of them in bright blues and greens and purples fluttering to the burst of flowers. Renji smiled to himself. He was so damn exhausted. He hadn't slept a wink. The sun would be rising in less than an hour and he had no excuse for not closing his eyes and going to sleep. It was as if he was afraid when he awoke, she would no longer be by his side.

He figured he'd arrived back to his quarters around four in the morning. The sun rose around six-thirty. He flopped backwards on the futon and stuck his hands under his scarlet mane. He just didn't understand how he could still be awake after hours of paperwork followed by hours of deliberation and world-hopping, followed by nearly two hours of the best sex he'd ever had! _No, scratch that,_ he amended. _I've had a lot of _sex_. _That_ was not sex._ Despite himself, he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Yuuki moaned a little and rolled over, throwing herself across his torso and nuzzling his bare chest. "You're still awake?" she muttered, blinking in the pre-dawn glow of the room and languidly stretching her sinewy body across his.

"Dunno. If not, this is the best dream I've ever had," Renji quipped, pulling his hands from behind his head and grasping her around the waist. Her stretching had aroused him again and he felt a longing to bury himself in her the likes of which he'd never felt before. He lifted her easily and she straddled his hips obediently, arching her back like a cat as she slowly sank down onto his length. A growl escaped Renji's lips as she engulfed him; his hips bucking traitorously against her even as he tried to hold her still. His hands gripped her hips painfully; he eased her form up slightly, then shoved her back down against him, crashing their bodies into one another. She let out a helpless yelp when he did so, her hands going behind her and her nails sinking into the flesh of his thighs. Renji was vaguely certain he felt blood trickling down his legs, but the only sensation that mattered was the tight wet heat of her around his throbbing shaft.

She lifted her hips again and thrust herself downward; ground her core against him and leaned over him, bringing her hands around to grasp his wrists. She pried his hands away from her hips and drew them up to her breasts as she rode him, throwing her head back as a strange sound escaped her lips. She tried her damnedest to choke it down, but the desperate movements that she suddenly couldn't control seemed to draw it out of her. She cursed her lineage, biting down on her lower lip to keep the howl at bay. Renji noticed, of course; his cock-sure grin as he flipped her on her back did nothing to ease her excitement. He pounded into her with a ferocity that was as painful as it was exhilarating. When he lowered his lips to her ear and his tongue found the sensitive fold at the pointed tip, she nearly lost what was left of her fading composure. "Would you like me behind you?" he whispered arrogantly, flicking the tip of his tongue over the point of her ear, then catching the lobe between his teeth.

"Kami, _yes_..." Yuuki hissed and he obliged, pulling away and grappling her hips to lift her. He sat her up on her knees, then rose to his own feet, pulling her with him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her up against him, burying his tongue in her willing mouth and walking with her-her toes dragging the floor-to the small writing table near the corner of his room. He stood her at the edge of the desk and spun her abruptly, grabbing her ass and kicking her legs apart to accommodate his granite cock. He bent his head and ran his tongue up her neck to her ear.

"Howl all you want...I don't care if all of Seireitei hears us." With that, he plunged into her so hard her feet came off the floor. She cried out, her hands gripping the edges of the table desperately, trying to summon the strength to continue to stand.

Her back arched, her head bowed, her knuckles turned white. All the while Renji pounded into her with fierce abandon, their breathing labored; he used her body for leverage, pushing her hips away and up, then forcing them back and down. Yuuki soon found herself leaning bodily over the table, her forehead pressed into the cool wood, her body on fire from his thrusts. Renji held her hips in the air; her only contact with the floor was the tips of her toes as she struggled to brace herself against him. His fast pace slowed to a blinding crawl as he pulled out nearly all the way, then leisurely eased his length back inside, curving into her, circling his hips and pulling away again, repeating the motion. Just when she thought she'd go mad, he drove into her with such force, pumping so furiously, he'd nearly up-ended her and the table to which she clung.

He leaned over her, pressing biting kisses against the back of her shoulders and neck as he pounded into her, her slick folds caressing the heated flesh of his cock even as her walls began to contract around him. Where their legs touched, he could feel the wetness of her desire as it spilled down her inner thighs and dripped to his floor. Her pants and yelps of yearning fueled his movements; he latched onto her neck with his teeth and drew hard against her flesh, the act of dominance itself made her climax. She clamped down so hard on his cock when she came, she could feel his quickened pulse in the veins of it as he stilled inside her. When her breathing evened and her tensed muscles relaxed, Renji began moving again.

Yuuki's knees knocked from the exertion of keeping her balance. Renji sensed it and pulled away, his shaft still hard and throbbing for release; huge and wet from her juices, she was mesmerized by it. She turned to face him and sank to her knees, her hands coming up and grasping his girth in small, calloused palms. The sensation of her hands on him made his own knees weak and his head lolled back as she pumped her hands experimentally up and down a few times.

He gasped loudly when he felt her run the flat of her tongue from the base of his shaft up to the head, then swirl it around his leaking tip. She knew there was no way in the nine hells she could fit all of him in her mouth-but she could try, she surmised, grazing her teeth ever-so-lightly over the head of his cock, then wrapping her lips around it and sinking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage...

At around eight, Renji sent a hell butterfly to the sixth squad's office informing Kuchiki-Taicho that he'd be taking the day off. Shinigami did not necessarily receive vacation days, as it were, but Renji figured he could argue the concussion-thing into the ground. There was just no way in hell he was getting out of bed—not when the company there was so nice.

Around noon, he and Yuuki decided they'd burned enough calories and probably needed to eat. Regretfully, they exited his room and made for their favorite little tavern where the ramen was good, but the sake was better.

"Tell me about the déjà-vu," Yuuki said, her chopsticks poised in mid-air. Her own dreams had taken on a specific pattern; she was "remembering" dates, times, places. It unnerved her to know that these "memories" would be coming to an end. Otherwise, she and Renji wouldn't be where they were at that moment. It also unnerved her to think that she may be the only one having such explicitly vivid dreams.

"Well..." he started around a mouthful of ramen, "Like I said, I really never knew what déjà-vu felt like until ya showed yer pretty face."

She smiled a reply, then: "What are you...feeling...per se? I mean, is it coming to you strictly in emotions, or are you having dreams? Do you just get that uncanny intense feeling that you've done something before you've actually _done_ it? Tell me!" She poked at him with her chopsticks accusingly, then buried them in her mound of noodles, her eyebrow raised and a pointed look on her face.

"It's hard ta say... It's mostly been..._feelings_ I guess. I did have this _one_ dream; the day I got konked on tha head...when they let me go home from Fourth but I was real restless. I decided ta go get some paperwork finished up. I fell asleep at my desk and I dreamed... Well, about... Ya know. Us." Renji mimicked Yuuki's pointed look and quirked eyebrow, willing her to know what he was talking about without having to voice it aloud.

"You dreamed about _us_ or about other people who _looked_ like us?"

"Now that ya mention it... In the dream, I was talkin' funny. Had a real thick accent. I didn't recognize it, though. The woman..._you_...sounded...I dunno. British? I mean...it was definitely _you_... but yer hair was real long."

"What kinda clothes did I have on? Could you tell what _you_ were wearing?" she asked, apparently not getting his silent clues about the contents of his dream.

Renji cleared his throat pointedly. "We weren't wearin' any," he replied in a harsh whisper, hoping none of the other patrons to the tavern had overheard.

"_Oh..._" Yuuki's ramen suddenly became unbelievably interesting. "Sorry. But, is that the only dream you've had?"

"That I can remember. You think we're havin' some kinda past-life epiphany or somethin'?"

"Don't know. I've been having these dreams ever since that first day we met. After you'd stared at me in this tavern when I'd come in with the girls; I don't really understand it myself. But when we locked eyes that night, I just had this overwhelming feeling that I'd known you before. That...Kami, this sounds so freakin' cheesy...that we were bound together or something."

Renji successfully hid a chuckle but not quite the grin spreading across his face. "I felt it, too. Just sounded too damn weird ta admit out loud."

Yuuki nodded in agreement and searched for a way to change the subject. The entire idea sounded so incredibly ludicrous to her now that she'd said it all out loud. Maybe there was a chance...that it had all happened. But looking back on every dream and vividly remembering nearly every detail of the time she'd spent with Renji since she'd come to Seireitei—it all started to flow along some parallel. There were coincidences like mad; things Renji had said to her, things that he'd _done_ to her...it was actually kind of frightening. It was as if the script was pre-written and they were simply doing it all over again. Granted, there was no Great War going on around them and biggest secret they were keeping was that they were involved with one another...and that really wasn't a secret; only they'd just begun this relationship the night before and there really hadn't been anyone to tell as of yet.

"The whole thing gives me the creeps," Yuuki said finally.

"Don't let it work ya up. If it's real, it's real. If we're crazy...well, at least we're in good company," Renji offered bluntly, digging into his meal again.

Yuuki sighed and put her chopsticks down in favor of her sake bowl. "I don't like not knowing what's going on around me. I'm not the kind of person who likes to relinquish control, you know?"

Renji cut his eyes up at her over the rim of his ramen bowl with a look that _clearly_ reminded her of _relinquishing_ her control that very morning. He didn't have to utter a single syllable. Yuuki's cheeks reddened and her gaze dipped back down to the table.

"Okay, fine. Sometimes, yeah... but that's not what I meant..." she stuttered, grabbing for the sake pitcher and refilling her cup, then Renji's. "I just mean, I don't like not having control over my own thought processes. And this whole 'memory' thing that's happening to me, if that's even what it is, not only confuses me, it kinda pisses me off."

"How so?"

"It's like watching a movie in my head...except I already know how it's going to end. I'm attached to the characters, the plot line is awesome; there's suspense, romance, danger. But if it _is_ who we were...then eventually something terrible is gonna happen, else _you_ and _I_ wouldn't be sitting in this tavern right now, having this conversation."

"Well, since ya put it that way..."

"You know what? Change the subject. What are you wearing to Shiro-chan and Ran-chan's wedding?"

Renji barely hid a snort behind a chuckle and managed to disguise it all as a cough. "Uh...somethin'..._clean?_"

"Don't tell me I got carted all over Karakura to find the perfect ensemble and you haven't picked out a shirt."

Renji didn't really know if she was serious, but he nodded anyway.

"Lucky bastard."

"Ha! And Kurosaki didn't believe me when I said you were low maintenance!"


	11. Otoosan

1939

The vicious hum of the airship's engines that Evie heard when they boarded were dimmed now by the surprisingly plush surroundings of the cabin itself. There were tables draped in lovely lace cloth, silverware, wine glasses; even shining silver candlesticks on every table. It was more akin to dining in a lavish restaurant than flying high over the distant farmlands of central Europe. She and Himura had made good time as they traveled to the airstrip; the roads were clear and they had discussed at length the most pressing situation at hand: would the threat on her life persist once they were clear of the Reich?

Himura had settled on the idea that the would-be-assassin was actually a member of the Alliance; it would be nearly impossible to reveal Evie's similar involvement to the fuehrer without risking the illumination of one's own affiliation. That was his only explanation. Surely if the offending party was an Axis affiliate, Evie's identity would have been revealed at the first threat. However, the file that Himura had studied the most was that of a die-hard Nazi Party member and high-ranking officer that he highly doubted would ever ally himself with anyone other than the staunchest of socialist reformers. He'd brought practically his entire filing-cabinet's contents with him, though, and as soon as they were safe on solid English ground, he'd cloister himself away and try to get to the bottom of it. He didn't harbor the hope that once he and Evie were free of the fuehrer's watchdogs the danger would subside. There had not been, as of yet, any physical attacks of course; but if Hitler himself knew where they were headed there was no reason to believe that the offending party would not know as well.

Sitting across the lush table from one another, they idly clasped hands in the center of it. For a while, they had settled into a comfortable silence; Evie was content to listen to the dull drone of the engines and Himura was mentally running through a checklist of places to hide Evie—at least until the babe was born. She broke the silence first.

"Darling, do you think we should leave directly from London? Go to Ireland or somewhere else, I mean?"

Himura studied her across the table, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "You actually read my mind, mein leibling. But it would be a shame to not visit your father while you were home. We can stay a few days. We left Berlin in quite a rush; we should have a good head-start on anyone that might be following us."

Evie nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent for the next few moments. Himura studied her carefully, as she obviously mulled over her next statement before uttering it aloud. "What's bothering you, Schätzchen?" he finally asked, gently brushing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.

"Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just wondering if it would be wise to...enlighten my father on my current condition."

Himura smiled wanly to himself. He personally was very pleased about the prospect of being a father. He intended to marry Evie as soon as possible, of course, but he could see how the situation at hand may grate her nerves.

Her father was old-fashioned, worshiping in the Shinto shrine in her family's home. Shinto itself was an accepting religion; slightly disjointed and not really adhering to any particular set of rules. Generally speaking, he shouldn't be overwhelmingly upset about an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Evie's mother, on the other hand, had been Catholic and Evie spent her early years being schooled by nuns at St. Mary's. Her mother had passed years ago, but she feared her father would disapprove because she'd dishonored her mother's memory.

"We can wait to tell him," Himura offered, linking his fingers with hers. He leaned over the table and tipped her chin up so he could meet her eyes. "And I think Ireland sounds wonderful."

A steward in immaculate white uniform passed their table and offered them champagne. Evie lifted her eyes to the man and politely declined. He was strikingly handsome, she thought, but there was something disturbingly lacking in his gray eyes. Himura tossed him a sidelong glance, but did not study the man's face. He saw long dark brown hair tied loosely back and the steward's uniform and passed the thought off as paranoid. For a fleeting moment, he feared the assassin had finally made his presence known. The steward nodded politely and made his way to the next table with his tray of champagne flutes.

It was nearing seven o'clock when their airship touched down in London. The flight had been uneventful; the monotony of it had actually worn on Evie's nerves. The subsequent drive to Camberwell had been just as quiet, but Himura had held her hand tightly, silently assuring her that everything would be all right.

They arrived at 38 Brook Drive and stepped out of their cab; Evie stared longingly at the familiar front door to the house she'd grown up in while Himura retrieved their scant luggage from the trunk of the car. She was desperately afraid to go knock on the door. She hadn't spoken to her father since she'd left for Berlin. He had been staunchly against her involvement with the Socialist party whether or not her intentions had been noble. She'd been fiercely independent since her mother's death and had not heeded his warnings. She was returning home though, wiser for her actions; the prodigal daughter. And with a man that she loved who shared the same convoluted roots as her own, no less. Surely _that_ would make her father happy. She'd decided somewhere between the London Bridge and Brook Drive that she would not confess her pregnancy immediately. She briefly considered lying to her father and telling him that she and Himura were already married. Rather than heap lie upon misdirection, she'd told Himura he'd have to take the couch while they were at her father's home. He may have been somewhat liberal in his religious practices, but that didn't exempt them to romp around while they were in residence. Himura had agreed, of course.

Lifting her hand to knock, she cast one last longing gaze over her shoulder at her beautiful beau; his ridiculous red hair gleamed in the waning sunlight like hellfire. Giving her a reassuring nod, he lifted their bags and made his way to the front step. Evie grasped the brass knocker and took a deep breath, bringing it down once, twice on the base plate attached to the door.

She took a cautious step backward when she heard the shuffling on the other side; the scratch of a needle sliding painfully across the waxen ridges of a phonograph recording, the mumbled "who the hell could it be at this hour" in that ancient tongue of her childhood. The door creaked open a scant inch and an eye peered out at them.

For some reason, Himura had it in his mind that Evie's father would be a short man; thin stature, graying hair, _rumpled_ for whatever reason. He was not expecting to have to look up at the man. He was not expecting that honey-colored eye to peer out at them as such. He certainly did not expect the door to widen and reveal coppery hair with no hint of gray topping his massive frame. And under no circumstances was he expecting the man to smile.

In his defense though, the smile on a man that huge tends to resemble a baring of teeth more than a smile. Himura dropped the baggage and automatically stuck his hand out as if offering a handshake was a tried and true way of not having your soon-to-be father-in-law gut your innards and hang you from the laundry line.

"Papa..." Evie started, then cleared her throat and started again in rusty-but-intelligible Japanese. "_Otoo-san_, _tadaima._"

The door opened wide and the giant ushered them inside, even stooping to help Himura with the luggage.

Evie spun around in a few circles trying to get out of their way, finally grabbing the banister of the staircase and hauling herself to a stop. "_Shookai shimasu Eberhardt Himura,_" she started, but she was interrupted by the guffaw of laughter from her father.

"Darling, surely you're butchering it. I'll speak English if it will make you more comfortable."

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, lifting her eyes to his. "This is Himura. He's a...friend of mine from Berlin. We're on the same side," she finished in a rush when her father's eyes narrowed in warning.

Himura stood dumbfounded at her father's ability to switch from perfect Japanese to flawless English, complete with a London accent that rivaled Evie's own. Himura's Japanese was probably as bad as Evie's, but when she spoke it, she ladled in all the appropriate accents, even if she _did_ butcher it. His thick German articulation clawed its way through every language he knew how to speak, and that was quite a few. He tried the hand-shake again. Finally the man took his offer.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yukimura," Himura ground out, same as he was sure the bones in his hands were grinding in the giant's grip. He tried to tone down the German, really he did. At least he wasn't in uniform, he thought grimly. _Probably would have been shot on the steps, then..._

After the necessary pleasantries and hugs and introductions were made, Evie's father sent them off to wash while he made tea. Evie carefully ascended the stairs to her room, Himura bringing up the rear with her bag. She made quick work of sorting through her things, finding a brush and her toiletries to reapply her-as far as Himura was concerned-still perfect makeup.

"I'm headed back down while you get ready, liebling," he mumbled, gathering her in his arms and burying his face in her fragrant hair. She tilted her smiling eyes up to his and he planted a chaste kiss on her mouth before he departed her room.

He headed deftly down the old staircase, rounded the corner at the foyer and nearly ran headlong into the daunting form of Evie's father. Luckily he didn't make contact with the elaborate Japanese tea set the man was carrying. How did he go from being one of the most confident, decorated, _feared_ men in the German Reich to being a complete klutz in the span of a few days, he wondered, apologizing to Mr. Yukimura and offering to help him set out the spread.

"Are you quite all right, son?" the older man asked, concern evident in his tone. He motioned Himura to have a seat on the Victorian settee in the parlor. Himura quickly obliged and clasped his hands listlessly in his lap.

"The truth is, _Herr_...sir...I'm deeply in love with your daughter. She is my life and I...well, I want to marry her."

"Is she aware of this?"

"Depending on what you say, she will be very soon."

The giant let out a great bellowing laugh. "You've taken care of her while she was in Berlin, yes? You've watched out for her interests, guarded her door against the foul Nazis? Dare I ask if you've guarded her door from yourself?"

"I will not lie to you, sir. I have guarded her closely, but not from myself."

Yukimura nodded thoughtfully and lifted the tiny tea pot in his massive hand. "I won't give you any ancient euphemisms, or spout any practical proverbs. If you love her, you have my blessing. I am not happy that you have both violated the marriage bed, but if you're settled on one-another, then so be it. Kami help you if her mother was still alive."

"I understand, sir. I ...I _thank_ you sir!" Himura could not hide the smile that spread over his face when Evie finally descended the stairs.


	12. White Wedding

Soul Society

Yuuki rapped lightly on Matsumoto's door. It was mid-afternoon and she had broken her lunch date with Renji to rush to her friend's "rescue" after receiving a note about "dire need" and "horrible decision making". She honestly didn't know exactly how "dire" or "horrible" it could be...with Matsumoto one merely assumed the worst. Then one would never be disappointed.

There was shuffling on the other side, then the door cracked open, Matsumoto's decidedly _not_ tear-streaked or horrified face peering out the opening at her. In fact, she veritably _lit_ _up_ at the sight of the platinum-blond standing on the other side. The door _swushed_ so hard when she jerked it open, Yuuki thought for a moment it would swush right off its hinges. Without preamble, Matsumoto grappled Yuuki's wrist and yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.

"So what's this horrible dire decision you made?" Yuuki asked, plopping down on the floor cushion at the low table in the center of the room. She glanced around herself looking for some physical evidence of Matsumoto's predicament.

"You're probably going to laugh at me, but you don't know Shiro! You're going to think I'm insane, but I'm terrified he'll be so upset!"

"You have to tell me what's wrong, Dear. Otherwise I can make no judgments..._or_ laugh at you."

Matsumoto heaved a great sigh of grief and rushed into her bedroom, returning with two shirts; one clutched in each of her hands. "He doesn't like me to pick his clothes for him in the first place," she started, thrusting the somehow offending garments at Yuuki. "But he asked me to pick up a shirt for his white suit for the wedding. I couldn't make up my mind! I was so terrified he'd be mad if I got the wrong one...I don't want him to be upset! It's not like he gets violent or anything. I just feel so inadequate when he's not happy with me!"

"First of all, _he_ asked _you_ to pick out the shirt, right?" Yuuki ventured, unfolding her legs and stretching them out in front of herself. She eyed the shirts with what she hoped looked like interest then gave up, dropping them to her lap.

"...Yeah...?"

"So, A: he has no reason whatsoever to be upset with anything you pick out. B: if you were _inadequate_ in any way, he wouldn't be _marrying_ you in two days." Yuuki reclined back on her elbows and stared pointedly at the titian haired goddess. Matsumoto reached down and plucked the discarded shirts off of Yuuki's midsection where she'd haphazardly dropped them and snatched them up to her ample chest. She was quiet for a moment, contemplating; then she tapped her chin a couple of times like Yuuki had seen her do when she was searching for the answer to a difficult problem.

"You're right, dammit. Black or gray?"

Yuuki tipped her own chin thoughtfully, then pointed at the gray one. It was shade of dove and she thought Shiro would look down-right fairy tale prince in it.

Matsumoto did a little happy dance and trotted back into her bedroom to discard the shirts once more. When she returned, Yuuki was not too pleased to note the certain _gleam_ she had in her eyes.

"Now that _that's_ settled..."  
"_Kami_...what?"

"Oh, it's nothing...just my typical curiosity clawing its way to the surface," Matsumoto replied, plopping down next to Yuuki. She stared pointedly at the blond, willing her question to penetrate Yuuki's brain before she gave up and started out loud, "So! Have you-"

"Yes." Yuuki rolled her eyes and flopped backwards onto the tatami mats, flinging an arm over her face. Matsumoto giggled and clapped her hands.

"Aaaaannnnd?"

"And what? God, woman! Do you want a play-by-play or will the short and sweet version suffice?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Matsumoto said in a sing-song voice. Yuuki rolled her eyes again beneath her arm and flung it aside, sitting up a bit to glare at the other woman.

Seeing the look of utter fascination and interest plastered on Matsumoto's face, she couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles, herself. "We've been going at it like rabbits for three weeks now."

"Ha! I knew it! I'm so glad!"

"Why are _you_ glad?"

"Because, you two needed each other. I don't know why I thought that but when I first met you I thought to myself, _She's made for Renji_."

"Well...I'm inclined to agree. But you don't know the half of it. It would take all day to explain it to you." Yuuki sighed and laid back on the floor again. "We're _connected_ somehow. I know that sounds cheesy and I don't really mean it in the Soul-mate Harlequin Romance sense. I mean it _literally."_

Matsumoto raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow and tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the woman in her living room floor. "You _have_ to tell me, now."

"Have you ever heard of a soul reaper remembering their life...you know, as it was in the living world?"

"Uh...kinda. There was this _thing_...'bout fifty years or so back. But she wound up not being a soul reaper at all, just sort of a...congregation of memories. It's hard to explain," Rangiku gave up with a shrug. "But you _remember_?"

"That's the thing; I'm not sure...? It started when I got here. To Seireitei, I mean. It started with dreams. That first night. Right after I met Renji. They're consistent, they follow a direct time-line. It's like watching pieces of a mini-series in my head every night when I'm asleep. Apparently, Renji's going through something similar. He says it's more of a constant feeling of déjà-vu, but he's had at least one dream that I know of that coincides with mine. Really, it's not all that important, I suppose. We're together, anyway you look at it."

"I have a confession to make to you, Yuuki. I don't know why I feel like I should tell you this, or even why I think this is the best time to tell you. But Renji is one of my dearest friends and I _need_ him to be happy. I don't think he _could_ be if he had to admit something like this to you."

"You have my attention. _Undivided_, in fact," Yuuki replied, sitting up once more.

"He and I have...somewhat of a past. It was more than half a century ago. You weren't even a blip on his radar—I'm sure you were wherever, doing whatever back then. You know he had this thing for Rukia. I had a someone myself back then..." Matsumoto took a deep breath and pressed on. "You know what preceded the Winter War? The defection of the captains and so on?"

Yuuki nodded an affirmative.

"One of those captains...well, he and I were lovers. We grew up together. We were _together_ for as long as I can remember. When everything got so..._heavy_...Renji finally realized that Rukia was falling for Ichigo. I'd been burying myself in sake for who-knows-how-long. We went out grieving together. Just to drown our respective sorrows."

"Drunk sex?"

Rangiku nodded. "Yeah. I don't want you to think any less of him. He's this wonderful guy! He deserves someone who will love him unconditionally. But he's probably trying not to think real hard about his past now with you around. And you deserve to know."

"Ran-chan, I think everyone has made some similar decision at some point in their lives. I can't hold that against you—especially when I wasn't even here." Yuuki fought back a twinge of jealousy, nonetheless. "Thanks for telling me, though. It doesn't change anything. I think I'm in love with him, regardless."

"Now that _that's_ out of the way," Matsumoto heaved a great sigh of relief. "I obviously don't remember much about...that night...so I need all the sordid details!"

"You're sick."

"Is he as huge as I almost remember him being?"

Yuuki fought back a fit of laughter. "Probably bigger," she sniffed.

"Oh my god! Tell tell tell tell!"

_Two Days Later_

It was going to be a Western-style wedding; none of the traditional Japanese accoutrements. The dress code was informal—no jackets or ties necessary—the only request was for the guests to wear white.

Never had Renji seen such a flood of gigai in the living world in all his after-life. Everyone who was _anyone_ had been invited to this shindig. _Who the hell is running Soul Society if everybody's here?_ he thought to himself, glancing around the congregation. Then, _I don't remember there bein' a church here..._

Yuuki looped her arm through his as they made their way down the aisle, marveling at the surroundings. It was winter—nearly Christmas—and _everything_ was white. The rafters, the pews, the windows were draped with tiny white lights; huge white taffeta bows adorned the rows of pews up the aisle to the altar. She half expected Matsumoto to walk down the aisle in a lighted dress. _Nah, she's not _that_ tacky._

Renji ushered her into the pew ahead of him and found he couldn't really tear his eyes off her slight form. It was unseasonably warm in Karakura and Yuuki had chosen a white cotton eyelet dress that ended just above her knee. It made her skin glisten in contrast and somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn't help but undress her, slipping the straps of the dress down her arms; lifting the hem of the skirt to her waist-

"Renji?"

He gave his head a violent shake and met Yuuki's knowing gaze. "Are you alright, Dearest?"

"I'm fine...I just kinda zoned out," he muttered, glancing again at the gathering.

Yuuki couldn't seem to shake her awe of Renji's attire, either. He looked magnificent in white slacks and a white button down, his thick red hair twined at the nape in a tight braid that hung nearly to his waist. His skin was nearly as bronzed as her own and the thick corded muscles of his forearms whispered under the dark skin where his shirtsleeves were rolled back over them. _He looks...delicious,_ Yuuki thought, patting the seat beside her. Obligingly, he sat, crossed his right ankle over his left knee and draped his arm behind her possessively, resting it across the back of the pew.

Yuuki leaned close to his ear and whispered, "You look fantastic. Have I told you that?"

He peered at her sidewise, his eyes narrowed. Slowly a smug grin crept over his handsome features. "No. But you can."

She smiled broadly. "You look fantastic."

"You clean up nice, yerself."

"Ass."

"You can't say stuff like that in a church, ya know."

"Ha ha, pretty boy. You were undressing me with your eyes thirty seconds ago."

"I am _not_ a pretty boy. And, how did you _know_?"

Yuuki tapped her temple and arched a knowing brow at him. "I _know_."

"You're beautiful," he assured her, his smile going from cocky to genuine. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. He was fairly certain he heard at least five "awwws" behind him after the fact, but he really didn't care anymore. They'd been seeing each other for weeks and it wasn't as if they were hiding it from anyone. He was pretty sure Matsumoto had the long and short of it and Kami knew you couldn't _pay_ that woman to keep her yap shut.

Some distant strains of music started up and Hitsugaya made his way to the altar, turning to face the rear door of the church where Matsumoto would be entering. Renji could see him nervously wringing his broad hands. He smiled a little to himself. He could only imagine what was going through the Ice King's brain right now, least of which being _What am I doing?_

Everyone turned with the change in music, the tempo the harbinger for Matsumoto's arrival.

_I don't think anyone expected her to be that...covered,_ Renji thought distantly, hearing more than several gasps of awe and approval. She looked magnificent.

In silvery-white satin, the gown hung in cowled folds above her ample cleavage, draping in smooth straight a-line from her waist. It was simple. It was classic. It was gorgeous. Even Renji had to hold in a gasp, hiding it neatly behind a raised eyebrow and wide grin.

Matsumoto locked eyes with him on her way down the aisle, her gaze drifting over to Yuuki nestled perfectly in his arm and her smile grew even brighter. She lifted her eyes to her taicho, standing stiffly at the altar, his huge hands fisted tightly at his sides. She knew he had to be nervous; her own heart was pounding so wildly she thought it might thump right out of her chest. He was so devastatingly handsome, she thought, giddy at the thought of spending the rest of their lives together. _Not like I haven't sampled the goods already,_ she sniggered to herself. She reached out for his hand when she neared and he drew her up the few steps to the dais, his eyes wide with admiration and a healthy amount of fear. It wasn't as if he could love her any less, but she figured all men were innately terrified of matrimony, no matter the consequence. A pink tongue darted out over dry lips and he remembered to smile; pulling her close, he touched his forehead to hers and said something low that made her smile. Then they both turned to the officiant and gave him their full attention.

Yuuki watched the whole thing, tears playing in her eyes. She never once glanced at Renji, though he steadily held his gaze on her profile. He wondered about it all—the act of marriage, the significance behind it. He thought he could marry Yuuki at that moment, but he wasn't entirely certain she'd want the same. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever lain eyes on, she was a hellcat—or maybe a hell _hound _in bed—she was strong, independent, obviously not afraid to go against the boundaries...he couldn't find anything about her that he disliked. Except, he couldn't figure out why she'd picked _him_. If they _had_ shared a life together surely she'd have realized he wasn't the swiftest bird in the nest...the brightest crayon in the box...the sharpest hammer in the cookie jar, as it were. In fact, he'd done nothing in this life or—he was sure—the one previous to deserve her. _Sometimes, we don't ask. We accept. We love. We count our blessings._ That was what Toshiro had told him the night before. _'Course, he was drunk_... But it was oddly fitting and incredibly poetic, so Renji took it to heart. _Sometimes ya couldn't question luck...or fate. Sometimes you just looked at what ya had and thanked yer lucky stars she thought ya were nifty enough ta keep around..._

Yuuki was having similar thoughts of her own, though truthfully, she didn't mind the idea of living in sin for the rest of eternity. What was marriage, anyway? It was a public contract that declared a monogamous relationship with another person. It was red-tape and pretty words and expensive parties with even more expensive dresses. Yuuki just didn't care about those things. She cut her eyes to Renji, wondering what was going through his mind, surprised to find him staring at her profile. She smiled at him and gently lay her head on his shoulder, his hand moving from the back of the pew to grip her shoulder and pull her closer. Maybe he wasn't thinking like she was... _Not like I'd say "no" if he asked..._.

The ceremony was short and simple. "I do; I do, too", kiss, smile for the cameras, rush down the aisle. The reception was going to be at that karaoke place they had happened upon weeks past. Matsumoto had fallen in love with it and Hitsugaya would break his back to make her happy. Yuuki had agreed to sing a few songs at Rangiku's persistence, but she honestly couldn't understand _why_.

The crowds filed out of the church, some leaving immediately for the Senkai Gate and Seireitei, wishing the couple well and exchanging hugs and handshakes; but alas, there _was_ work to do back home. The left-overs carefully picked their way a few streets down to meet at the Karaoke Bar and Grill. It was dark and cool inside and they were informed upon entering that the taps were ready and the stage was lighted. The familiar waiter—who reminded Yuuki so much of a taller Hanataro—waved emphatically and rushed over to greet them.

He had initially intended to hug the blond...until the huge man behind her turned his attention to them and casually draped an arm over her slight shoulders that _clearly_ stated: _Mine_. _You no touch_.

The waiter flailed visibly at the red-headed _barbarian_ and skidded to a stop. "Miss Yuuki...it's so nice to see you again!" He stumbled over his words, heartbroken at Renji's intervention, but genuinely happy to see her.

"It's good to see you, too, Dear. This is Renji," she stated simply, motioning over her shoulder to the red-head. "Renji, play nice. He's just a friend."

She could have sworn the smaller man whimpered, but she thought nothing of it, turning and looking for a table that would seat the majority of them. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto were already perched at a large table near the stage, so she looped her arm through Renji's and guided him that way.

A half-hour into the festivities—after Matsumoto had tossed the bouquet and Rukia had neatly pummeled every girl in the room for it; and Hitsugaya had rubber-band-snapped the garter over his shoulder and had pegged Ichigo square in the forehead—the champagne and beer started flowing and the persistent new bride lingered over Yuuki until she had no choice but to take the stage.

Everyone present had heard the girls' constant chattering over Yuuki's alleged vocal ability but precious few in the room had actually heard her sing. The bar was noisy; a din of voices and raised toasts, clinking glasses and shouts from well-wishers. Yuuki leaned over to Renji and mumbled in his ear: "I don't know what the big deal is, but Matsumoto wants me to sing a few songs." She stood and smoothed her dress, making her way up the few steps to the stage. Renji had heard her that night he and the guys had gone off to "rescue" their women—he knew _exactly_ what the fuss was. She looked so damn amazing up there, he thought; like she belonged up there. The lights dimmed a little over the seating area and a soft glow took over the stage. The opening strains to a song that Renji remembered from the '90s reverberated through the room. It was a slow song; probably meant to encourage people to dance. He did note that some of the tables that had been there on their previous visit had been cleared. _Well, no dancin' fer me. Not when my date's the resident song-bird, _Renji thought, a tiny bit grateful because he wasn't really a _dancer_, anyway. He reclined in his chair, draping his arm over the back of it, and contented himself with admiring the woman on stage.

_There's a calm surrender to the rush of day  
When the heat of the rolling world can be turned away  
An enchanted moment, and it sees me through  
It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you_

_And can you feel the love tonight  
It is where we are  
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
That we got this far  
And can you feel the love tonight  
How it's laid to rest  
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds  
Believe the very best_

_There's a time for everyone if they only learn  
That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn  
There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors  
When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours_

_And can you feel the love tonight  
It is where we are  
It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer  
That we got this far  
And can you feel the love tonight  
How it's laid to rest  
It's enough to make kings and vagabonds  
Believe the very best_

Renji could have sworn he saw a tear roll down Yumichika's face out of the corner of his eye.

"Dude, you okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question as Yumichika brushed the wayward drop from his cheek.

"I'm fine," the feathered one muttered, his voice strained. He stole a glance at the newly weds, blissfully embraced in the center of the makeshift dance floor. "I just _love_ Elton John!"


	13. Sie mich heiraten?

**A/N: I'm beginning to realize that I'm a bit of a review whore. I get terribly giddy when I open my e-mail and there are little bits of praise from you guys. I can't tell you how great it makes me feel that this story is actually being read, and the reviews are icing on the proverbial cake! I only wish that I could post faster than I've been able to. This whole thing is based on one stupid dream I had and it's blossomed into far more chapters than I was expecting. Thanx so very much for reading and even more for actually following me this far. Anywho. *Fluff* ahead.**

London, England 1939

Familiar faces greeted Evie as she and Himura strolled the shopping districts. They stopped to welcome her home, inquire as to her health, her whereabouts, her father. They laughed and shared brief stories of past-times, people they once knew; _everyone_ had to be introduced to Himura. He was always a "friend from the continent" though he supposed that was his own fault. He hadn't proposed yet and as such he was not "fiance"-and one certainly could not introduce one's companion as a Nazi lover. However, in his own defense, he _was _out shopping with her for her engagement ring. She just didn't know it yet.

He was about to chauffeur her into a small jeweler as they were absconded by a tall strawberry-blond woman slightly older than Evie, with such bulbous breasts, he was sure it was a sin.

"Evie, Darling! Where have you been?" the woman demanded, obscuring his petite companion from view with a generous hug. "Your father simply would _not_ tell anyone where you'd run off to! I've missed you so! Jack Harlingwell's been asking after you forever...Oh, dear! I'm so rude; where are my manners? How do you do?" she asked, sticking her hand out to Himura. She cut her eyes to Evie and said under her breath, "No wonder you never gave poor Jack the time of day. Who's your gorgeous friend?"

"Harley-dear, this is Himura Eberhardt," Evie started and he reached out for her hand. Gallantly, he tipped his head to her knuckles and bit back the smile of amusement making its way to his face. He was no stranger to the advances of women; he supposed he wasn't bad looking, but it was his hair that drew their attention. In fact, one of the things that made him fall for Evie so fast and so hard was that she wouldn't give him the time of day when they first met. "Himura is a friend of mine from Germany. I've been in Germany all this time."

"Dear God, what for?" the woman named Harley exclaimed. She blushed a pretty smile at Himura, then turned her ire on Evelyn. "You know what's going on over there? God's Teeth, woman, what were you thinking?" The woman snatched Evie by the elbow and spun her away from Himura, lowering her voice. "And beautiful or not, you brought one home?"

"He was an officer in the German Reich," Evie happily pointed out. Himura wondered if she and this Harley woman must have some past issues. He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and settled in to watch the debate.

"He and I met while I was in the Fuehrer's employ." Evie's face lit up with a bright smile. "He's absolutely breath-taking in those black SS uniforms. All the buttons, and cords, the bars and medals pinned to him—I've never seen anything so sexy..." Himura choked back a snort of laughter. "We went to all the galas and functions and operas, him in his uniform and me in slinky evening gowns...we turned Berlin upside down. It was so much fun! The Fuehrer _himself_ urged us together. And if I keep going, Darling, you're going to explode! Dear God, Harley, breathe!" Evie lightly punched the other woman on the shoulder, peels of laughter escaping her. Harley fought for breath; she was in fact about to explode. Her face was red and her eyes bugged out farther and farther as Evie went on.

"All that...all that was a joke?" she gasped, her hand going reflexively to her throat. "You _bitch_," she sneered, her own face cracking with a smile. "How much of it was true?"

Evie cut her eyes back to her beau; Himura stood with his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with mirth. "Every last bit of it, Harley. But it's more than what it seems. I'm not a supporter. Neither is Himura. I'll tell you everything over dinner, if you'll come."

"And hear the greatest story I'm ever likely to hear? When's dinner?"

"How's seven sound?"

"Fabulous. At your father's?"

"Absolutely. Authentic Japanese cooking...since it's the only thing Japanese I do well."

Harley laughed and they embraced again. This time Himura thought how disturbingly alluring the scene was, now that Evie was an active participant in the embrace. He kept his comment to himself and bid the other woman goodbye. Easily draping an arm across her slight shoulders, he steered her into the jewelry shop.

Evie had no idea what they were shopping for; Himura had simply stated he wished to buy her something "nice"-she presumed to match her bracelet. It never occurred to her that he might propose to her. Quite honestly, the thought of marriage hadn't flitted though her brain just yet. They were together and she supposed they always would be, what with her bearing his child and whatnot. But getting married just hadn't clicked in her processes. _It _would_ be nice, though_ she thought, browsing over the wedding sets in the glass case before her. There was a beautiful set in the far left bottom corner and she pointed at it childishly. Glancing over her shoulder at Himura who was hovering nearby, she said, "Please don't think me silly, but may I try that on?" He turned and gazed over her at the ring she was pointing to and smiled.

"Not silly at all, leibling. By all means." He motioned to the jeweler and the old man removed it, sliding it easily over Evie's knuckle. It was gorgeous and actually matched her bracelet quite well. Set in white gold, a huge marquis-cut aquamarine was nestled all around by diamond baguettes. The set was completed by a ring-guard style wedding band also filled with diamonds, that the engagement ring sat neatly in-between on one's finger. The wedding band's diamonds were round and flawlessly cut, giving the whole ensemble a gaudy fire that, when the light touched it, flashed over the walls of the small store in prismatic display.

"I'm not usually one for disgusting displays of jewels, but I love it!" Evie exclaimed, clasping her hand to her chest. Himura smiled and nodded to the jeweler who retrieved a box from beneath the cabinet. "Oh, no! Darling, you can't possibly-"

"I can and I will, leibling. It makes you happy. You'll have it." He gathered her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her crown.

"You didn't even ask the price..."

"Doesn't matter. Our former..._employer_...paid me very well." Himura thanked the old man as he passed a wad of bills over the counter to him. The jeweler peeled off a sum—one that Evie didn't want to think about too much—and returned the majority to Himura. He handed the black velvet ring box over the counter and Himura shook his head. "I don't think she needs that. She won't be taking it off for a while yet."

The old man smiled knowingly and wished them well. Turning to Evie at the exit, Himura paused before pushing the door open. "May I see that ring, leibling?" Quizzically, Evie pulled it from her right ring-finger and held it out to him. "We haven't done anything in quite the order one should," he explained, taking her left hand and lifting it to his lips. He pressed a gallant kiss to the back of her hand and slid the ring on her left finger. "But I want you to marry me. We can take that trip to Ireland you want—but as our honeymoon."

Evie's eyes grew wide, her elegantly arched brows nearly disappearing into her hairline. Her mouth formed that amusingly adorable "O" of surprise and she flung her arms around Himura's neck, her ability to speak somewhat disabled for the moment. The old man behind the jewelry counter smiled approvingly; sneaked into the back room to retrieve his wife to witness the joyous moment. He stood behind the glass cases, his thin arm wrapped tightly around his plump wife's shoulders as they watched Himura propose. The old woman swiped tears from her eyes. Himura sank down to one knee—which surprisingly wasn't all that easy due to being shot in the knee some years previous—after he'd disentangled himself form her exuberant embrace.

"Maybe this isn't the perfect timing or even the best place...but I love you very much. Evelyn Yukimura, I want you to be my wife."

The sound finally found its way back to Evie's voice and the little "O" of surprise uttered one shrill squeak, followed promptly by "Yes!" She felt the tears gathering in her eyes and she flung herself at Himura again as he stood, nearly toppling them both through the entrance. He lifted her easily off her feet and she buried her treacherous eyes in his collar; he carried her, feet dangling, right out the door.

Himura sat Evie down on the sidewalk, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing her in the direction of home. She didn't say anything, merely nestled herself comfortably against his side and took refuge from the harsh winter wind blowing at their backs, a contented smile plastered rather dumbly on her face. She stared down at the ring for nearly two blocks, not allowing her concentration on its beauty to be broken in any way. As such, she did not see the man coming out of the shop door on her left and accidentally bumped into him, his shoulder colliding with her rather forcibly.

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry!" she cried, spinning to face him. He cut his eyes at her blankly; nodding once, he turned, heading in the opposite direction. Himura's gut clenched at the contact, and the bastard didn't even utter a response! But briefly his eyes met the other man's and his heart did a little jump in his chest. He knew those eyes...those soulless gray orbs staring at Evie, so abruptly yet so full of malice, and yet..._and yet, nothing matched. _The eyes were the same. The hair was too long, unkempt, straggly. The clothes haphazardly pieced together, the coat wrinkled; the cheekbones too high, the brows too furrowed. The face was almost right..._almost_. Enough to make Himura doubt himself. Enough doubt to decide not to pursue the stranger.

Two hours after dinner, their bellies full of sukiyaki, their cups full of rice wine, Harley, Himura, and Evie sat at the kitchen table; the elder Yukimura had retired to bed, bidding all a good-night. Evie taunted Harley with elaborate stories of her exploits in Berlin, including the bombing and the giddiness she had felt when she discovered Himura had been her contact in the mansion; Himura poured over his files and loose documents, searching for clues on the man that had haunted his dreams of Evie's well-being. He'd immediately located the folder containing the officer's file; now he was searching for other pictures that may have been taken while he'd been on sabbatical—something to give Himura an idea of what he may look like out of uniform, unkempt.

The man Evie had run into earlier had sent a warning bell off in Himura's head, but stupidly he'd ignored it. He'd been too content, not diligent enough to act on his gut instinct. His focus had been on Evie, not her security and since there had been no adverse reactions to their contact, he'd shuffled the ill feeling off to coincidence and decided against pursuit.

As if Evie had read his mind, she reached across the table and put her hand on his, keeping him from flipping through another file. "Darling, I know you're concerned, but can that wait? We're here and I'm safe. We have a guest."

Himura looked up from the paperwork and stared blankly at her for a moment, then nodding he folded his hands over the stack and focused all his attention on the women. It was like telling a hyper-active dog to "stay", Evie thought, seeing the restlessness and worry reflected in his eyes as he tried to follow conversation, but glanced erratically between them and the files. She was trying desperately to get him involved in her story telling but, she mused, she couldn't fault him for worrying about her. She was just about to tell Harley about their ride on the zeppelin when a strange feeling hit her low in her stomach. It was almost déjà-vu, but something about it was far more foreboding than a simple sense of recognition. The man she'd bumped into..._she'd seen him before._

"Oh, God," she mumbled out of nowhere, and Harley looked curiously between the two of them. She reached for his hand again and snatched it to her. "That man from earlier...the one I bumped into-"

"You know him?" Himura nearly shouted, leaning forward over the table. "Where have you seen him?"

"It may be nothing...but he was the steward on the zeppelin," she said, suddenly very curious over the file that Himura kept revisiting over and over again. He instantly snagged it from the stack and slid it across the table to her. She flipped the cover and stared for a long while at the photo clipped to the records.

"Do you think that's the same man?" Himura asked, wondering himself if he was reading too much into the similarities.

"If you don't mind my asking," Harley started, easing her rear to the edge of her seat, "what the hell is going on?"

"Evelyn has...somewhat of an issue. It's why we left Berlin so abruptly."

"You make it sound as though someone's trying to kill her," Harley stated, trying to glance at the open folder.

"Someone is," Himura replied, standing from his seat and stretching. He was not accustomed to sitting for such long periods of time and his rear end was killing him.

"Good God, Evie, why didn't you say anything?"

Evie opened her mouth to answer but Himura cut her off. "The less you know, the better, I assure you. We will not be in London long and if anyone asks after us, you'll have no answer to give them."

"Evie..." Harley sighed, her eyes pivoting to her saki cup.

"It's all _off_," Evie muttered, tilting her head at the photo and ignoring Harley's voice. "It's him, I think. But it doesn't look like him. The facial structure is...well it's _off._"

"That was my initial assessment, as well. I've been looking for other photos; to see if there's anything close."

"He never tried to serve any of the other passengers champagne," Evie thought aloud, recollecting their service on the airship. "He offered us champagne, we refused. He went about the rest of the tables but I never saw him give one single glass to anyone else."

"It's possible that perhaps no one else simply wanted any champagne?" Harley found herself caught up in the mystery.

"It's possible that the drinks had something in them particularly for the two of us..." Himura plotted, re-stacking the files and setting them back in his briefcase. Evie continued to stare at the haunting photo.

"I want with all my being to say that this is him. But I just don't _know_," she said, lifting her eyes to Himura. "It's just...off. It's like looking at a pair of identical twins that aren't _quite_ identical."

"It's very late, I'm stuffed, and you two are scaring the _hell_ out of me. I think I'm calling it a night, and I will call on you tomorrow. Provided that you're still here, of course," Harley said, standing and gathering up her coat and bag.

"You're right, dear. It's bed-time for me, too." Evie flipped the last file closed and handed it to Himura who tucked it away with the others. "You come by tomorrow morning and help me pick out baby names," she said simply, hugging the taller woman.

"Baaaaby...n-n-naames?" Harley sputtered, pulling away to stare Evie in the face. "You're not..." she looked down at Evie's middle and grabbed her around the waist, pressing into her abdomen under the loose fitting dress. "Oooh my God."

Himura bit back a chuckle at the new development. He would worry about the assassin in the morning. The doors were locked, his gun was within reach and there was nothing more they could do about it that night.

Evie saw Harley out and bolted the door closed behind her. "She'll be fine, right?" she asked him, turning around and letting him engulf her in his arms. "I mean, no one's going after her because of me?"

"She'll be fine. I doubt there are any tabs being kept on your circle of London friends. More likely the assassin has followed us directly from Germany and has no idea of your social circles here."

Evie sighed, contented now to be alone with him, and buried her face in his neck. "I want you to come to bed with me..." she mumbled, pressing her lips against his pulse point. "But I don't want Papa to have a conniption fit, either."

Himura smile despite himself and nodded. "I'd rather not be on the receiving end of his fist, myself." But he tilted her face to his and covered her mouth with his own, anyway. She leaned into him, parting her lips beneath his crushing mouth and shivered when he snaked his tongue inside to tease her own. She would have to be content with his kisses, she thought, pulling away and looking longingly at the sofa where he slept.

Himura took her chin between his thumb and forefinger; forced her to meet his gaze. "Go to bed, mein leibling. Before you start something that I cannot finish." He pressed another kiss to her mouth, this one much more chaste, and turned her toward the staircase, swatting her on the bottom as she went.


	14. It's a Bug, Alright

Soul Society

Some months after Matsumoto and Hitsugaya were married, Renji convinced Yuuki to start moving some of her things into the apartment he kept in the southern district of the Rukongai. He rarely went there himself, but he figured the longer she lived with her father the larger the detriment to his own health. Every time he passed Komamura in the streets or bumped into him at one meeting or another, he was graced with the most absolutely terrifying glare from those golden eyes. Nothing had been said as of yet, but Renji knew that _he_ knew and in all honesty, it was nerve wracking.

Renji heaved a sigh as he glanced around the small apartment. His room at the barracks was spartan, true...but this place was downright _bare_. It needed a woman in it to brighten it up, he thought, his eyes coming to rest on a guitar-shaped box in the far corner. "Huh." _I wonder if I can still play..._ he mused, walking over to the instrument and removing the old Squire from its case. He settled down to the floor and crossed his legs in front of himself, resting his broad back against the bare wall behind him. His mind wandered as his fingers strummed out the chords, his ears absently picking up the tones as he tuned the guitar. He wondered what had possessed him to purchase this apartment in the first place. It must have been some misplaced sense of nostalgia, he figured, his fingers finding purchase in the strings and plucking out some old blues song. The place was no where near where he and Rukia had grown up; the South Rukongai wasn't what you'd call high-class, but it was certainly not the slums he'd been accustomed to during the first part of his life.

He glanced around quickly for the small practice amp he knew he'd stored here and seeing it nearby, he reached out and dragged it over, plugging the instrument into it. The guitar hummed to life beneath his calloused fingers and he wondered a little bemusedly what he must look like sitting there in his shihakusho playing the blues. He was waiting on Yuuki to get out of her afternoon SWA meeting and the sun was beating through the open window of the second-floor apartment mercilessly. _Heat rises,_ he thought and set aside the instrument to shrug out of his kosode. His skin was slick with a sheen of sweat and the bunched muscles of his arms and shoulders and back rippled beneath tan skin and tattoos as he pulled the guitar back into his lap. He settled back against the wall and started playing again, strumming out another tune he thought was called _Ten Long Years_. He remembered hearing it in the living world and he knew it had been performed by Eric Clapton and B.B. King, two of his favorite blues artists. He closed his eyes and let his head loll back and forth to the music as he played, his right foot tapping in rhythm against the wood planking of the apartment floor.

That's how Yuuki found him as she followed the strains of music up the stairs to the open apartment door. She'd stood in the first floor foyer for the longest, just listening to the sad music, not able to move forward but unable to keep her body from swaying just a little to the sound. She finally made her way to the door and peered around the frame not certain if it was Renji she was hearing. Seeing him sitting there in the floor, shirtless and sweaty, plucking those guitar strings and bobbing his red head slightly up and down; her breath hitched. He was so intense...though she supposed his childhood gave him the right to play the blues. That he made it through alive had been a miracle; she would expect him to have some emotional tug toward the sad strains that fell from his fingertips.

Renji didn't pause at the end of _Jesus, Make Up My Dying Bed_ and flowed right into Elmore James' _The Sky Is Cryin'. _Yuuki recognized nearly every song she'd heard Renji play, but this was one of her favorites. She stepped into the room finally, her voice picking up with the sounds of Renji's strumming and his eyes popped open when he heard her join in. He couldn't help but smile at her as she glided into the room, swaying gently to the music that he played, her vibrant voice full and scratchy with emotion, blending perfectly with the sound of his guitar.

"_The sky is cryin'...Can't ya see the tears roll down the street..._

"_The sky is cryin'...Can't ya see the tears roll down the street?_

"_I've been a-lookin' for my baby..._

"_And I wonder...where can she be?"_

Yuuki sidled closer to him and he turned his gaze up to her as she leaned down and snatched the tie from his hair. The red mass tumbled down around his shoulders and sweat-slick back and he bit back a smirk, turning his eyes back down to the guitar as he wordlessly continued to play. She danced back, her hips swaying with the music, her arms over her head as she slowly turned and sang:

"_I saw my baby early one mornin'..._

"_She was walkin' on down the street._

"_I saw my baby early this mornin'..._

"_She was walkin' on down the street_

"_Ya know it hurt me, hurt me so bad..._

"_Made my poor heart skip a beat."_

Yuuki paused during the guitar flourish, letting Renji show off a bit with his apparent skill. She had no idea he could play; he'd never mentioned it and he'd certainly never picked up an instrument in front of her. He was just full of surprises today, she mused, not hiding the hungry glint in her aquamarine eyes as she drank in the sight of his body. He was downright smoldering as he sat there, picking away at the strings...and the sexiest thing about it was he didn't know how damn sexy he really was.

"_I've got a real...real, real, real, real bad feelin'..._

"_That my baby, she don't love me no more..._

"_I've got a real, real bad feelin'..._

"_That my baby don't love me no more._

"_Ya know the sky, the sky's been cryin'..._

"_Can't ya see the tears roll down my nose?"_

Renji strummed the last chord of the song and cut his eyes to the now-dark window, the stars distant pin-pricks against the black fabric of the night sky. The heat hadn't abated and he felt a trickle of sweat bead at his temple and slide listlessly down his cheek and jaw. Yuuki was still swaying to and fro as he leaned over and unplugged the guitar from the amp, her eyes closed against the humidity and she'd shrugged out of her captain's robe and kosode. Covered in only her low-slung hakama and something resembling a white wife-beater, she folded her arms over her head and shifted from foot to foot, idly humming out some nameless beat as she swayed. Renji stood, propping the guitar against its case and sauntered over to her lilting form, wrapping his strong arms about her and pulling her against his body. He swayed with her, imagining the strains of some distant song playing for them, around them; her slender arms looping around his neck of their own accord and her hand tangled playfully in his thick hair. She lay her cheek against his chest and the heat of him stung her skin. She turned her forehead into his chest and inhaled deeply; his scent had a drugging affect on her senses, like tanned leather and something sweet and spicy that made it hard for her to put together a coherent thought. Tentatively, she touched the very tip of her tongue to the center of his chest, tasting the saltiness of his skin. She raised her eyes to his as they continued to sway and leaned back just so her hips could fit more firmly against the hardened contours of his own. Renji bent his face to hers, taking possession of her mouth with his own, his lips tender and seeking at first, but her throaty sigh washed the gentleness from his mind and his tongue plunged into her mouth with a hunger and ferocity he'd never imagined he'd be capable of feeling. Yuuki opened herself to him, groaning under his insistent kisses, her treacherous body already begging for more.

He waltzed them by the door of the apartment and reaching out without separating his mouth from hers, he swung the door shut. Satisfied with the click of the latch and not bothering to bolt it, Renji let a growl escape his lips as he found the knotted himo at her hips. He made quick work of the fabric ties and slipping his rough hands down, down around the curve of her buttocks, he was delighted to find that there were no other offending pieces of clothing to obscure her from his touch. Dragging his fingertips lightly back up her sides, he snagged the hem of the tank she wore and pulled it over her head, flinging the garment to the far corner of the room. Renji tore his mouth away and surprising her with somewhat of a mischievous snarl that tugged at the corners of his mouth, he started trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her body as he slowly sank into a kneeling position on the floor before her.

Yuuki stood there, her head pressed against the wood of the door behind her, her back arched away from it, as Renji continued his fiery torture down one leg and back up the other. He dragged the tip of his tongue from her knee to the inside of her thigh and she bit her lip to suppress the moans that he evoked in her. His left hand came to rest behind her right knee and he lifted her leg, haphazardly tossing it over his shoulder. Yuuki knew what was coming, but she couldn't bite back her gasp as his mouth found the center of her torment. She felt an all-too-familiar howl stirring to life deep within her chest but rather than give Renji the pleasure of hearing it, she whimpered against his assault until he finally raised his head and turned his smirking face up to hers.

Renji ran the flat of his tongue straight up her body as he slowly stood and when he towered over her again, he grappled her hips and lifted her easily into the air, pressing his hardened length against her core and rocking his hips more than suggestively. He smiled against her hair, breathing in the fruity scent of her and Yuuki buried her face in the curve of his neck as he swung them away from the wall and toward the futon he'd rolled out hours ago in the small bedroom.

Yuuki cracked her eyes against the sunlight pouring into the window. Yawning quietly, she rolled onto her side and marveled at the man lying next to her. His eyes were still closed, despite the horribly bright onslaught of morning and his lip curled up just a tad as he snored softly. His red hair poured over the pillow and across his back, the rays of sunlight making it almost a magenta color. She often found herself wondering if he dyed it and reaching out, she took a handful and let it slip through her fingers to pool again on the futon. _It's way too healthy to be processed,_ she thought and sighed. Why did she always wind up with the guys who had better hair than her? She fingered her close-cropped tresses idly. _Oh, well. Better him than me, with all that hair._

She sat up, careful not to disturb Renji, and slid out from beneath the light sheet that covered them both. Footfalls nearly silent, she padded into the tiny kitchenette and heaved a heavy sigh of thanks when she spotted the coffee pot perched on the kitchen counter. It was the only appliance in the entire area that was unpacked and Renji had even sat out the small canister of coffee grounds and a little stack of filters and two mugs. Yuuki grinned broadly and set about her task of waking them both up.

While the coffee brewed, filling the small apartment with what Yuuki considered the most magnificent scent in the world, she padded quietly back into the bedroom where she'd left her duffel the day before and careful not to wake Renji, she dug around in it and found a pair of panties. Shimmying into them, she made her way back out to the living room where she found her tank and pulled it over her head. She followed her nose back into the kitchenette and poured both the mugs full of the steaming brew then made her way back to the futon and settled down gently next to Renji.

Rolling onto his back, Renji cracked an eye open and peered through the curtain of his hair at the pointy-eared pixie sitting at his elbow. He couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips when she stuck the mug out to him. "Liquid alarm clock?" he asked, sitting up and taking the mug from her. She nodded less than exuberantly and sipped at her own cup. "Wanna skip out on the training and head into Rukongai with me today?"

Yuuki lifted an eyebrow skeptically. "You're a bad influence, ya know that?"

"What ever do you mean?" Renji replied, innocently. "I just think ya work too hard, that's all. Hell, even Stick-Up-His-Ass Kuchiki takes a day off now and then."

"I should tell him you said that."

"You won't. You like it when I do neat little things like breathe and have a pulse."

Yuuki choked back her laughter. "Renji, they just assigned me this division three months ago. I haven't been there long enough to take a day off."

Renji grinned smugly, knowing his argument was already won. He shrugged and lifted his mug to his lips. "Don't say I didn't offer," he muttered around the rim.

"How about I organize the squad for training and I meet you at the South Gate. I know you're leaving on assignment tomorrow and I really _do_ want to spend some time with you before you go."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Three hours later, Yuuki was flash-stepping to the gate; her troops were organized, her fukutaicho Hinamori-san was in command (albeit against her will) and despite the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, Yuuki smiled to herself as she stepped up to the huge gate. As soon as she landed at the _Shuwaimon_, a wave of nausea washed over her and she nearly doubled over with the sensation. _I've been around Ukitake-taicho so much lately...maybe I've caught a bug,_ she thought. She straightened and shook it off, walking through the gate-door and immediately spotting Renji's wild red mane a few steps away.

She brushed past the few denizens around the doorway and crept up to him. His back was to her as he knelt down and said a few words to a small boy, obviously beside himself that there was a shinigami on the wrong side of the Seireitei wall. The reddish-blond head nodded vigorously at something Renji said and then he took off like lightning to tell his friends that he'd seen an honest-to-goodness Soul Reaper.

"What did you tell him?" Yuuki asked, as he turned. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a tight hug and pressed an exuberant kiss to her lips, practically bending her over backward as he did so. A few bystanders hooted and whooped and she punched him in the shoulder, a mocking smile on her face. "What was that about?" she asked as he righted her and she felt another wave of nausea crash over her when he let her go. She grabbed the sleeve of his shihakusho and steadied herself, her eyes downcast as she stared in confusion at her toes.

"You all right, Yuuki?"

She stared up at his handsome face and tried to plaster a smile on her own. "I'm fine. I think it's just a bug. What did you tell him?" she gestured to the little boy, now surrounded by at least twelve other children as he explained something to them with flailing gestures and an excited voice.

"Told 'im he had a strong reiatsu and that he could apply to the Shinigami Academy next year at open enrollment... Say, did he look familiar to you?"

"The kid?" Yuuki stared at the back of the boy's head for a while and contemplated. He did somehow feel...familiar. Her déjà-vu collided swiftly with a sharp pain in her lower abdomen and she doubled over again, heaving up the contents of her stomach.

Renji spun around and snatched her up by the shoulders, spinning her around and swinging her slight form into his arms. "As much as I love ya, I'd really appreciate it if ya didn't puke on me," he quipped as he rushed her back through the gate-door and flashed to the Fourth Division.

"Abarai fukutaicho, could you leave us for a moment?" Unohana's voice wafted from the doorway of the room where Yuuki was resting.

"She all right, Taicho?" he asked nervously and Unohana smiled reassuringly as she ushered him outside.

"She's fine. But I need a moment with my patient, Abarai-san."

With a sharp glance over his shoulder at Yuuki's small form, he stepped out of the room. She looked so pale lying there on that cot and it worried him more than he cared to admit.

Unohana shut the door a little more forcefully than he considered necessary in his face. He sighed and made his way down to the waiting room; the quest for coffee was on.

"Komamura-taicho? Are you aware of your condition?"

"Please don't call me that. It's just Yuuki. Komamura is my father. And..._no?_"

"First of all, I want you to understand that the birthrate here in Seireitei is literally next to none."

"_Birthrate?_" she squeaked, pulling the thin sheet up to her chin and peering at the healer as if she'd sprouted another head.

"Yes, Dear. Birthrate. Even in the Rukongai, the numbers are excessively low. Somehow, though, you and our beloved Abarai-san have managed to beat the odds. Although, it looks as though you weren't trying. It shouldn't come as much of a surprise, I suppose. After all, you yourself are somewhat of an oddity. Not to mention your father. But I digress. You are pregnant, Dear. Congratulations. The sharp pain you described to me was probably just overexertion from your practice this morning. You're about..." she glanced down at the flip chart in her hand, "...twelve weeks along."


	15. Numb

_A/N: This one's short, but pivotal to the plot. It will be the last flash-back chapter of the story. It's not like ya didn't see it coming..._

_December 1939_

Himura had stepped out to meet a contact and Evie was pressed with a promise to remain locked inside her father's home until he returned. He'd only be a few hours, he'd promised; so she sat listlessly on the sofa where he slept, her legs curled beneath her and some magazine filled with tasteless fashions opened on her lap. She'd simply lain it there to make it appear as if she wasn't waiting hopelessly for her fiance to reappear.

Languidly, she dragged the tips of her fingers over her midsection, feeling the curve of her belly start to take shape. It was still a very small slope, but she would start showing soon, she thought, caressing the tightening skin of her abdomen. When the door knocker rose and fell she nearly sailed from the sofa, hoping against hope that Himura had returned. Rushing to the heavy door, she peered through the tiny glass peep-hole and was only slightly less excited when she saw Harley's face peering back at her.

The woman smiled warmly and engulfed Evie in a smothering hug when the door was opened and Evie ushered her inside and hastily locked the door behind her.

"Are we expecting assassins?" she mumbled, glancing from Evelyn to the door and back as the slight woman threw a series of bolts.

"Not necessarily. I only promised Himura I'd stay locked inside until he returned. He's off meeting a contact; he hopes to get some more information on the officer he thinks is behind the threats on my life."

"Change of subject then. What are we hoping for?"

When Evie stared blankly at her, Harley thrust an armful of magazines at her that Evie hadn't noticed she'd been holding. "Boy or Girl?"

"Oh! Well, I haven't given it any thought, actually... I suppose as long as it's healthy..." she trailed off, starting towards the staircase. Harley followed dutifully behind her.

"Everyone hopes they're healthy, silly girl. How about a girl with that shock of red hair and your blue eyes...she'd be gorgeous!"

Evie picked up on the game. "Or a blond boy with amber eyes?"

"Or twins?" they shouted at the same time, trailing into Evie's bedroom and bursting into girlish giggles.

Time passed and Evie began to take notice of the hours tip-toeing by with no hint of Himura's return. She was beginning to get that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something had gone terribly wrong with his meeting. The problem was, she couldn't recall if he'd told her where he'd gone.

Himura met the man in a confessional. An Italian by the name of Giordano; they'd met briefly in Berlin two years ago and the Italian had told Himura of his plan to defect to London and join the priesthood. Through information dockets Himura had learned of Giordano's parish and from the occasional letter passed to him via the Allied informants, had learned that the Italian had not neglected the business of spying on Nazis.

Dressed plainly; wool trousers and a thick overcoat hid a number of armaments, including an eight inch dagger tucked into his spit-shined boots and an MP-40 SMG carefully draped behind his long coat at his hip. A Luger pistol was in the silk lined pocket of his coat, his leather-gloved hand resting gently around the grip. He trusted the Italian. He did not trust his surroundings.

He did not see the tall man with long brown hair and soulless eyes enter the church behind him.

Carefully, he slid into the confessional booth; more a room, actually, with its large wooden gate-style wall and flickering gas lamps on either side. He saw a flutter of movement behind the wooden grates, a slither of shadow passing before something not quite as dark as itself. He heard a shuffle of heavy cloth and then the ancient wood of a bench on the other side creaked under someone's weight.

Giordano had told him to enter the confessional, speak in German, and if he wasn't the one attending the confessional, he would be fetched. He was the only one in the church that spoke anything other than English and Latin. Keeping what he thought was a safe distance from the wall, Himura cleared his throat and briefly wondered what it was that a Catholic would say in this room. He knew he'd heard it before... _Oh, yeah..._

"_Vater, verzeihen Sie mir, weil ich gesündigt habe_."

A sigh was heaved on the other side of the wooden wall and the bench creaked as the attendant stood once again. Himura assumed it wasn't Giordano at that point and that the Italian was, as he said, being fetched. He was contemplating how it could possibly be so pitch dark on the other side of that fence when he heard the latch on the confessional door behind him click. Before he could react, there was the distinct press of cold gunmetal at the base of his skull.

His breath hitched in his throat. He inched forward with the press of the barrel, being forced farther into the room so the assassin could shut the confessional door behind him. A few steps more, a click of the latch; an answer to the statement he'd made to the priest rasped in the guttural German tongue.

"_Ja, Sie haben gesündigt_, but probably less than me."

"Why?" The question came out involuntarily; a breath in the stagnant air of the dim room.

"Because, implying I was after your woman made you so much easier to draw out. We knew she was a mole. Hitler loved her so well, he didn't care. She was too passive. No threat. Feed her a little information and she'd pass it along, then go about her business as if her position were an afterthought. You...however. _You_ were much harder to figure out. So decorated. Such a good role model. The perfect _Offizier._ You were _worshipped_ by so many of us below you. Rising so high in the ranks at such a young age is nearly unheard of. When I told _der Fuehrer_ that you were our little Evelyn's informant, he was so furious... Instead of having you publicly executed, we simply began feeding you false information. He set me on your heels when he realized you were entertaining the thought of courting _his_ Evie."

"_His Evie_..." Himura growled. The only answer was the persistent dig of the gun barrel into the base of his skull. His fingers were still around the grip of the Luger in his pocket. He just didn't think he'd get the thing out quickly enough to make a difference. His heart was pounding in his ears and distantly he wondered where the hell was that damned Italian.

"His Evie," the man repeated. "He had the delusion that he was some sort of father figure to her. Don't worry, I won't make you die with the fear that he _wanted_ her."

Bile began to rise in Himura's throat. _ Where was that damned Italian?_ A distant scream echoed across the terra-cotta tiles and stained-glass windows of the cathedral; the old man from before had stumbled over something in the dark hall behind the choir loft.

"If you're wondering where your friend the Italian is, I met him earlier today. I think the _vater_ just found him."

There was a click behind Himura's head. A blast as loud as any he could remember. And then darkness.

Evelyn stared out the bedroom window while Harley tried her best to garner her attention. She was clearly upset about something, the woman could tell; but even Evie didn't know exactly what was the matter with her sudden lack-luster disposition. She frowned out the glass pane; the orange glow of the sky quickly fading to the depressing gray of dusk. _I hate gray._

"Evie darling? I know I've asked a hundred times, but, are you alright?"

Something was nagging her. Prickling at the back of her mind. Gnawing at her subconscious and telling her that something very, _very_ wrong was happening. Himura should have returned hours ago and as many times as she'd wracked her brain to remember where he'd told her he'd been going, she'd utterly failed to turn up a clue. Wearily, she turned her gaze from the window to the woman on the bed beside her, her eyes grazing over the crucifix hanging above the headboard of her bed as she turned.

It clicked.

"The Church!" she screamed at Harley and dove off the bed toward the door. Ripping a coat from her wardrobe and sliding on some flats, she rushed out the room and threw herself down the stairwell at a dead run. Harley tried to keep up with her. Evie was dumping the contents of Harley's purse out on the sofa when she arrived at the foot of the stairs.

"What do you need?" she asked, frightened, but horribly aware that something was terribly wrong if Evie was acting this way. The petite blond held up Harley's car keys triumphantly and muttered a "Sorry," as she raced by her; presumably for disturbing the contents of Harley's purse. Stopping at the desk in the entry way, Evie snatched open a drawer and rummaged until she found the pistol her father had kept there her whole life. Checking it quickly for bullets, she shoved it in one coat pocket; flicked a stack of envelopes over and found the box of shells then stuffed those into the other coat pocket.

Harley thought she was too young to die, but she was fairly certain that a heart-attack was in her immediate future. She followed Evie out the front door and without a word, climbed into the passenger seat of her own car. A block later, she asked timidly, "Where are we going?"

"St. Mary's."

_September 1940_

Days had turned to weeks, weeks to months and slowly Evie found herself growing numb. Even with the impending birth of her child, she didn't seem to be able to muster a semblance of emotion, be it grief or joy.

She and Harley had found him there, lying just inside the confessional doors at St. Mary's, face down in a pool of blood; the gore had been too much for Harley. She'd immediately turned and wretched in the aisle. Evelyn had dropped to her knees, a wail caught in her throat, unable to make a sound. Silently, she'd pulled Himura's head into her lap and cried, her shoulders shaking with violent silent sobs. The authorities had arrived and she'd been soundly questioned. The government had of course, stepped in shortly thereafter and she'd been released to her home, under the watchful worrisome eye of her father. She'd confessed her pregnancy to him that night and nodding solemnly, he'd tucked her away in her bed and gone into the basement to prepare a proper funeral for Himura.

Even now, Evie found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the tiny child swaddled tightly in her arms. He was the image of her lost lover; amber eyes stared languidly up at her from her embrace as she stepped lightly over the threshold of the grocer's door. He grinned a happy toothless grin as she cooed him, brushing the thick auburn hair back from his forehead.

For appearances' sake, her father had told everyone they knew that she and Himura had been married in Berlin; he was concerned with the stigma that might attach itself to an unwed mother as those things were wont to do. When the baby came late on an June night, Yukimura had fretted as much as a man can fret; pacing the salon downstairs as Harley and the midwife delivered his grandson into the world. After the labor, which by all rights he assumed had been an easy one, he realized that through it all, he had not heard Evie cry out once. He was terrified in those moments. He knew she'd been slipping into a sense of detached disinterest with her surroundings. But to never once cry out while _giving birth?_ His fears were alleviated when the piercing screams of a newborn echoed through his house. Harley had shouted down the stairs for him to come up. Evie lay in bed, sweat beading her brow, clutching her son to her chest as if the world itself had determined that she could not keep him, either.

She smiled now, finally, after two months of wondering what gruesome plan fate had in store for her baby. For nearly the entire time he'd been in this world, she'd stayed locked inside her father's house, only going to the basement occasionally to sit at the small shrine he had set up next to her mother's for Himura. She'd left the baby twice with Harley to go to St. Mary's. She still held to her mother's faith and she'd decided to have him baptized there. They'd never managed to get the stains off the terra-cotta floor.

"What do you think your _ojiisan_ would like for supper, Himura?" she cooed, stepping up to glass wall displaying various cuts of meat. He gurgled happily in reply and she nodded. "Absolutely. He loves steak."

She thought for a fleeting moment the floor vibrated beneath them. There was a rumbling in the distance and for some reason a deep-seeded fear overtook her; she backed into a shelf and hugged the babe close to her. The sound faded and she heaved a sigh. "I'm going insane..." she thought aloud, shaking her head and approaching the display again.

An aging man in a butcher's apron came to the case. "What do ya need, Mum? Want a couple of steaks? Or is it ta be..." his voice trailed off with the sound of distant thunder. Only in that instant, Evie knew it wasn't thunder at all. She'd heard that sound before. In Berlin. And it was getting closer.

"Shelter?" she screamed at him, reaching out one-handed and grabbing him by his apron.

"There isn't one for three miles, Mum!" he cried; the pounding growing ever-closer, the vibrations beneath their feet threatening Evie's balance.

"There's no basement here?"

"No! Filled in with rubble a few years back..."

She closed her eyes in defeat. Lifting her son to her face, she kissed his forehead; held him to her breast as she made her way to the front of the store. Peering out the doorway, she saw the streets engulfed in hysteria, plumes of dust and smoke and despair wafting all around. The roar of the planes' engines was back, drowning out the cries of the people around her. It was dusk. Her father would be worried. "We may be seeing your father soon, little one," she whispered. If he understood the commotion around them, he paid no heed to it all. His tiny face was furrowed with a deep frown, but no tears; no wails. He was as stoic as his father had ever been. Evelyn Yukimura still would not weep.

_One week later_

The elder Yukimura had thought he'd had enough tragedy fill his relatively long life. First, the death of his wife seemed to claim his sanity for some months. The years after, watching his beautiful daughter grow into a beautiful woman, filled his heart with joy. She fell in love. And again, tragedy: she'd lost her husband before they could even be properly married. He'd grieved with that loss; maybe more thoroughly than even she had been able to. He'd put the man in the ground with Buddhist ritual as per Evie's wishes. Then came little Himura; when he thought he'd never love anyone as much as he loved his daughter, a baby boy stole his heart away and took the pain of loss out of his soul. Now he stood in the rubbish of what had once been the shops near the London docks, praying to any god that would listen that he'd find his child and her son alive. He knew in his heart of hearts that he would not.

A shout in the distance came from a store-front he knew was once Evie's favorite place to buy their meats; he ambled closer to the man loading up a cart of bricks that had made up the exterior of the building. Others were rushing over; rescue workers, good Samaritans, the like-trying their damnedest to find and save people caught in the bombing. _The bombing that's still going on_, he reminded himself gruffly, peering over the pile of rubble and immediately recognizing the crocheted blanket that Evie had wrapped Himura in that afternoon when she'd left for the market.

He realized suddenly what she'd felt when she and Harley had found Himura's body at the church. A breathtaking pain erupted in his chest. His lungs ceased to function. Painful heat and tears threatened the backs of his eyes. He collapsed to his knees and reached out for the blanket, grasping the edge and working it over and over in his fist. The pain did not go away. But that curious sense of numbness began to ease over him, his tears turning the bricks beneath his knees a dark shade of rust.

"Someone fetch a priest, please. They need their last rites."

A/N:

_Vater, verzeihen Sie mir, weil ich gesündigt habe_ is German (roughly) for "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned."

_Ja, Sie haben gesündigt _is German for "Yes, you have sinned."

I am relying on an online translator for my multi-lingual phrases. I do not speak German in the slightest. ...Well, I _can_ say "I am a jelly doughnut"... but that's beside the point.


	16. Happy Birthday!

**A/N: I am so incredibly sorry that it's taken me this long to post. I've had a plethora of computer related...shall we call them issues?...and finally wound up hand-writing the last two chapters and posting them from a friend's computer. Anyway, again, I'm sorry for the delay. And hopefully the next chapter will not be far behind. Thanks all my readers...I hope you didn't give up on me.**

**Also...I suppose it's probably a tad late to mention this but...I don't own Bleach. Thank God for Tite Kubo. I _do_ own Yuuki.**

On some distant level, Renji knew that he was dreaming. Consciously, he understood this; but he couldn't keep the whispered words of unseen lips from penetrating his skull—piercing his soul.

_You cannot keep her._

_She does not belong here._

_This is not her world._

_You must relinquish her, regardless of your pain._

Renji sat bolt upright, his skin covered in a worried sweat; his hand automatically grasping at the other side of the futon, seeking out the comforting presence of his pregnant wife. His palm landed lightly on her bulging middle and he heaved a sigh of utter relief. Yuuki moaned a little and rested her hand over his.

"What's wrong, Dearest? Bad dream?" she asked, a sleepy smile playing at the corners of her wide mouth. He desperately wanted the feel of her around him at that moment, but with Unohana-Taicho's warnings prickling his conscience, he settled for the feel of her in his arms. Lying back down gently, he gathered her against him and held her to his chest, his fingers tangling in unruly curls, his breathing evening out as he felt her draw her arms around him and nuzzle his chest. "Tell me about it, Renji."

"It's nothing," he lied. At least he hoped. The gravity of the dream haunted him. He wanted it to be just a nightmare. But every fiber of his being raised his hackles and warned him the situation was quite grave, indeed. "Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you." He buried his face in her hair and hoped, prayed, he was right.

The sun was pouring through the bedroom window of their apartment when he awoke next; he could not suppress the smile of pure relief that crossed his face when he opened his eyes to a very pregnant Yuuki sitting next to him, holding out her ritual offering of morning coffee. Sitting up he pushed the mass of red hair away from his face and reached out for the mug she held toward him. "You're a little late, hon. You didn't sleep well last night and I didn't have the heart to wake you at dawn. I've already sent a message to Momo and told her you will be in soon."

"What would I do without you?" Renji asked, blowing lightly at the mug's contents before taking a sip.

"You'd still be a lieutenant under Sixth Squad's iron fist," she replied, standing slowly and making her way across the room. Taking the captain's robe from the back of a desk chair, she gave it a hearty _thwack_ to shake out the wrinkles and tossed it over his head. "And if you hadn't knocked me up, you wouldn't be a captain!"

"That's harsh!" he cried in protest, flinging the haori from his head and draping it over the side of the futon carefully. His words were defensive but his laughing smile gave away his faux chagrin. He sat his coffee aside and, rolling onto his hands and knees, crawling on all fours, he made like a stalking cat until he was at her feet, then "pounced" so that his arms ensnared her middle and he pressed his face happily into the swell of her belly. "You hear that? Your momma's mean ta your dear ole pops!"

Laughing, Yuuki patted his flaming crown twice and wriggled slightly, urging him to his feet. "The effect was lost with your naked bum pointing in the air."

As he walked to his division's offices, the emotions from the previous night's dream slowly evaporated. _Just a nightmare,_ he told himself repeatedly…until he believed it.

Momo greeted him at the office door, a stack of paperwork clasped tightly against her chest, a patient smile plastered across her face. "Are you feeling well, Abarai-Taicho?" she asked sweetly, turning and following him into the building as he stepped past her. "Komamura…taicho said you were feeling a bit…under the weather."

"I'm fine, Momo. And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Yuuki is still your captain. I'm just a stand-in. She'll be back before ya know it."

"Sorry, Renji," she apologized, retreating behind her own desk after settling the stacks of reports on his. "How is she doing?"

"She's about to pop," he chuckled. "I almost feel bad for her."

"No you don't," laughed Momo. "You feel _guilty_."

"Maybe that's it," he conceded, sliding the first document off the stack and scanning over it. A report on the division's training. _These_ he was good at. It had been his primary function as Kuchiki-Taicho's lieutenant; overseeing the training of his subordinates. He laughed inwardly at the similarities between Yuuki's ideas of training and his own. She often relied on mock battles, as well. However she hadn't been able to fight in them for nine months now. _It must be eating at her_, he thought, signing off on the document and adding it to the stack awaiting the division's seal.

He worked through lunch. He didn't realize it until Momo materialized in front of his desk with a bento box and shoved a pair of chopsticks between his face and the ever-receding stack of paperwork. Glancing up, he nodded his thanks and swapped the papers for the meal on the surface before him.

Everyday for the past few months had been spent this way. After Unohana-Taicho had ordered Yuuki to bedrest for the last four months of her pregnancy, Yuuki had been given leave to choose anyone—lieutenant rank or higher—she saw fit, to take her place temporarily. The obvious choice to most would have been Momo—but the waif of a lieutenant had warned her outright that she would refuse the position if offered. Emotionally, she wasn't ready for it, she'd said. Renji often wondered if the reason Aizen's betrayal had hit her so hard was because there had been more than a professional relationship between them. He wasn't the only one, he knew; Kira had told him often of rumors regarding the two—he had even seen them leaving one after the other some nights very late from the division offices.

Renji shrugged it off. It wasn't that uncommon…captain and lieutenant…he just hated it because of how it had affected Momo—someone he used to consider a very close friend since their academy days. He supposed it really wasn't his business, anyway.

He finished the documents off soon after his impromptu lunch break and decided to check on his squad at their training grounds to stretch his legs.

The training field was located behind the Fifth division barracks and he was half-way around the narrow building when a hell butterfly flitted into his line of vision.

_Unohana-Taicho requests your presence at the infirmary, Abarai-Taicho._

His eyes widened in momentary panic before the message continued:

_It is time._

The goddess of flash would have been proud at the time that lapsed between the end of the hell butterfly's message and Renji's arrival at Fourth's infirmary.

He was standing in front of the doors to Yuuki's room before he, himself, truly knew how he'd gotten there. His hands were poised to push through when a shuffling sound to his right snapped his attention away from the room. Hanatarou tugged lightly on the sleeve of his haori to garner Renji's attention.

"Not yet, Abarai-san. Unohana-Taicho said to wait out here while she prepares everything."

Renji grit his teeth in frustration but complied; common sense told him not to go against the captain of Fourth. Pure survival instinct warned him that upsetting Yuuki right now would be suicide. He turned and allowed Hanatarou to guide him to a tiny waiting area and he slouched in one of the chairs as he awaited some—any—news.

He must have dozed off sitting there; the chair wasn't all that comfortable, but his lack of sleep the night before had been substantial. That damn dream he'd had—it was eating at him. The more he wanted to ignore it, the less he seemed able.

Renji dreamed now, something happier. Yuuki carrying a small boy on her hip, singing and laughing as she swayed in their living room to some sourceless music. Then the room brightened; lighter and more intense than any natural light. Yuuki and the boy seemed oblivious to it. Renji stared on at them, powerless to stop what he knew in his heart was about to happen. The light became blindingly bright; unbearable. He narrowed his eyes against the harsh intrusion; finally closed them against the searing pain. The voice that came from the white abyss was one he recognized—not Yuuki's but a masculine voice that still reverberated in his mind from the nightmare before.

_You cannot keep them._

Renji awoke with a start, a gasp escaping his lungs and startling Hana who dutifully sat next to him.

"Are you alright, Abarai-san?" There was a delicate tug on the edge of his sleeve and he tried his best to look reassuringly at Hanatarou.

"I'm fine. Bad dream." Renji sighed and dropped his face into his palms, elbows propped on his knees. He'd taken to wearing his hair down when he'd been "temporarily" promoted to captain and it fell around him now, creating a curtain to hide his innate fear from his friend.

"You were only asleep a few minutes. I can go check up on Unahana-Taicho's progress, if you like."

"Very much, Hana. Thanks."

Taking a deep breath, he sighed again; pushing his mane directly back from his forehead, he relaxed a bit, letting his head loll back and rest on the wall behind him. He stared disapprovingly at the ceiling.

_What are you trying to tell me? _he thought. His musing was cut short by a blood-curdling scream.

"RENJI!"

He snapped to attention, panic causing him to surge out of the chair to his feet. Hana's head immediately popped out of a doorway down the hall and he grinned a little crazily at the red head.

"She is ready for you, Abarai-san!"

That put some fear into his heart.

He was at her side in seconds; the look on her face as she turned her aquamarine eyes on him turned the blood in his veins to ice. "Abarai Renji—" she ground out between little gasps of pain. He couldn't help but smile down at her and the condescending tone she used.

"Abarai Yuuki—" he prompted, pushing the matted blond bangs off her forehead.

"Get. This. Thing. Out. Of. Me." She punctuated her sentence for dramatic effect and it was all Renji could do to not laugh; until she grabbed a fistful of red mane and yanked his face down parallel to her own. "Nevermind—" she breathed irritably. "Put it back in – I wanna go home!"

Even Unohana laughed at that and wagged her finger at Yuuki. "That's counter-productive, Dear."

Four hours of intense labor and then the most blessed sound Renji had ever heard pierced the air. The screaming of his newborn…

"You have a healthy baby boy, Renji," Unohana informed him. He thought he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

A vague smile crept across Yuuki's sweat and tear-streaked face and her head lolled back against the pillow as she closed her eyes. Raking a hand backwards through his red mane, Renji heaved a sigh of relief and reached out to grasp her shoulder.

"You did good, Yuuki," he chuckled. "You did so good."

Her grin grew wider. "You too, Papa."

"What's his name so I can get his birth certificate prepared?" Unohana asked, swaddling the babe and laying him gently over Yuuki's breast.

"Yuji," Renji replied without thinking.

Truth be told, he and Yuuki had never once considered picking out a name. She'd told him to choose when the moment was right. At first, he'd felt immense pressure at the responsibility. But suddenly Yuji seemed so…_right_. A combination of their own names for the perfect result of their own combination.

Yuuki cuddled the boy to her chest and cracked an eye, gazing up at the man she called "husband." "Very good, Papa."

Within hours, the small room Yuuki was in became overly crowded with friends and well-wishers. Balloons and floral arrangements and even stuffed animals threatened to burst the seams of the walls with overflowing abundance.

Rangiku and Toshiro came bearing a miniature stuffed Zabimaru that Ran-chan had had made in the living world. His baboon eyes were huge and blue and overly cute while the Snakey end had a rattle built inside. Renji was caught somewhere between _off-guard_ and _appalled_. He was sure Zabimaru himself would be less than happy with the correlation. Yuuki accepted it as gracefully as one would accept a gold watch; hurling a warning glare at Renji and expecting a verbal reaction. He just grit his teeth and gave her his lopsided grin and she nodded her thanks silently, directing Rangiku to place the stuffed Zabs on a shelf near Hinamori's bouquet. Rukia and Ichigo appeared with Chappy…_everything_…Ikaku and Iba came bearing celebratory sake. Yumichika brought a gift basket of grooming supplies…the list went on. By the time everyone said goodnight and Unohana cleared Renji to go home and get some rest, he'd already dozed off in the tiny and uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room. She did note however that he'd pulled it as close to Yuuki's bedside as he could manage. Smiling to herself, she took his discarded haori and draped it over him.

Yuuki was still awake, her unblinking gaze leveled on the slumbering bundle in her arms.

"You need some rest, too, Dear," Unohana declared, reaching out and taking Yuji from her. "I'll bring him back in a couple of hours when he's hungry again," she assured her softly.

Yuuki nodded and reluctantly handed over the baby. "Thank you, Unohana-san," she whispered.

"No thanks needed. You did all the work. From taming that one –" she tilted her head to the sleeping Renji – "to bringing this little one into the world. I just hope you can handle the _both_ of them."

Yuuki smiled widely, reaching out and brushing the hair from Renji's sleeping face. "I think I can handle that."

"Rest Yuuki. We'll be back." With that, Unohana left the room.

Yuuki turned her gaze to the sleeping Renji fully; there was a nagging in her heart. She couldn't put her finger on it.

The dreams or _flashbacks_ as she'd called them had culminated in a gory finale; then abruptly stopped as suddenly as they had started. Renji had simultaneously ceased to complain about déjà-vu. Life had gone on relatively…normally.

She'd been a little shocked when he'd asked her to marry him about a week after she'd found out about her pregnancy. Well, perhaps _asked_ was too kind a term. He'd pretty much demanded it.

Yuuki was fairly certain the idea of matrimony had been…suggested…by her father after she'd told him about his impending grandparenthood.

He and Renji had gone to a meeting and when Renji had returned home that evening he'd taken her out to their favorite little tavern and said, "We're getting married," and nodded like it was final. She'd laughed at him, of course. It was a good thing she wasn't the romantic type. She could easily picture Ichigo and Rukia in a similar situation, but at Ichigo's declaration, Rukia's face would turn red, her hands would clench knuckle-white and she'd physically attack him in the most painful way she could immediately perceive. Probably a boot to the head…with her foot still in it.

That next day, she and Renji had quietly visited the Justice of the Peace and said their vows. There was no pomp or gala. Hell, no one even realized they'd tied the knot for nearly a month. It didn't come as any big surprise to their comrades, though. Renji was known for his blunt tactics and Yuuki was – as everyone teased now – "low maintenance."

As Yuuki's eyes fluttered closed, losing the battle against her exhaustion, she realized the one person she so wanted to see had not yet made it back to Seireitei from his recent scouting mission.

"Otoosan…" she muttered in her sleep. "Come home and meet your Yuji."

In the depths of Renji's mind, a voice haunted him. It was deep and masculine. It had a lilting tone to it, like music – it did not speak in a language that he understood with his ears. But regardless of the words that were spoken – Renji knew in his heart what the voice conveyed. It was a warning. The same warning he'd been receiving night after night, dream after dream. Sometimes Yuuki was there – being torn from his side; sometimes it was only a dark void; sometimes he as in a room so brightly lit it blinded him. But never had he seen the speaker of those ominous words. Only heard the disembodied voice proclaiming his woman and child did not belong to him – _with_ him. That both were to be taken away. That someone of greater importance held the cord of their souls and that their time in Renji's world was short.

The voice was not malicious. It was heavy, _demanding_. But never had it dared to harm either Renji or his family. It seemed to only want to warn him. His tone was comforting. Its message was not. It repeated itself again.

_You cannot keep them._

_Their souls were promised to Another._

_They cannot stay. It is not the way of things._

Renji found his voice in the dream. "Why? Why do they have to go?"

_Because they do not belong here._

"That's circular logic…" he muttered. "How'd they wind up here if they never belonged here, then? Huh?" He shouted. He spun about in confused motions. The darkness seemed to be closing in on him. He felt gravity pulling at his body; consciousness returning him to the land of wakefulness. A small hand stroking his hair.

No, he thought, leave me here a bit longer so I can figure it out…Don't wake up yet…

"Renji?"

Yuuki's voice, laced over with that masculine one from his slumber. Was he still asleep? Then he heard it again, this time just her.

"Renji?"

He grunted and his eyes slowly opened. The room came into focus and the light spilling in through the singular window played tricks on his eyes for a moment.

Yuuki appeared to have a glow about her. A golden aura. The babe in her arms was nearby obliterated by the wash of golden light.

He blinked several times, adjusting his eyes. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice dull and gruff from sleep.

"Around eight. If you go now you can grab a shower and make it to Fifth by nine."

He nodded slowly. His neck creaked in anger and then a loud _pop_ and he could feel his spine again. Gingerly he sat upright, stretching and lifting his arms over his head and flexing everything he'd managed to cramp by sleeping hunched over in a chair; he was relieved to feel a series of _pops_ rain down his spine. He stood slowly, his gaze never leaving the face of his nursing son.

"We'll be fine, Papa," Yuuki assured him and he grinned despite himself at her new nickname for him. "You'll have to do some extra stretches before working out, what with how you slept all night."

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning down and planting a kiss to his son's head. He gently rested his palm on the baby's crown and was startled at the size of his own hand suddenly. His eyes turned to Yuuki and she smiled reassuringly.

"He'll grow, I promise."

He bent down again and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back tonight. When can you come home?"

"Unohana said tomorrow evening I should be fine to leave."

"Excellent. I'll see you in a few hours, then."

"Hmm," Yuuki agreed noncommittally, focusing on the child again.

Throwing his haori over his shoulder, Renji made his way out of Fourth and toward home for a quick rinse before heading back to his division.


	17. The Sky Is Cryin

**A/N: I would like to apologize, Dear Readers, that it has taken me countless weeks to update this story. I have been without a computer for the better part of two months. I spent the time between my last update and now agonizingly hand-writing this chapter—something I haven't done in years. It is with my deepest apologies, I post now— the Final Chapter—and hope very sincerely that you enjoy it. It's fluffier than I intended it to be, but all in all, I'm happy with it. Hell, I'm happy I **_**finished **_**the thing. Thank you all for reading and for all the glorious reviews you posted. And I suppose it's a little late, but I feel the overwhelming urge to state this: I DO NOT OWN BLEACH OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO, HOWEVER OWN EVELYN YUKIMURA AND YUUKI KOMAMURA, THE PLOT OF THIS STORY AND ANY OTHER ORIGINAL CONCEPTS HEREIN. I promise I'll give Renji back when I'm done playing with him! …maybe.**

A month passed; the dreams seemed to subside during those first few weeks as his family settled into their new routine at home. Every couple of hours, Renji would wake as he felt Yuuki roll out of the futon they shared to feed their son. He grew accustomed to the lack of sleep. At first, Momo teased about the dark circles under his eyes, and then as they abated, she began her questioning of Yuuki's return to the division. All in all, the fear of those strangely spoken words never fully left his mind; no matter that the frequency of the dreams had all but passed.

One month bled into two, two into three and though the dreams seemed to have gone completely, the dread that clenched Renji's heart every time he came home and wondered if he'd open the door to an empty apartment only seemed to dig deeper into his soul. The dark circles returned; Yuuki grew worried at his inability to rest. She pressed for reasons, but he would smile and say that nothing was wrong. He feared pushing them away nearly as much as he feared them being torn from his side. One week before they celebrated Yuji's three-month birthday, the dreams hit him again full-force.

He dreamed that he was walking to the training field, rounding the corner of the long building that was the Fifth Division headquarters. As he turned the corner of the building, a figure stepped out of the wall. Renji back-peddled in shock.

A male, robed in white, with an ethereal glow surrounding his body materialized before the stunned red-head, a golden hue radiating from his entire being. He turned to face Renji as if stepping from a solid wall was an everyday occurrence. He had a mild face; a placid look in his azure eyes that told of great serenity; towering white wafts of feathers protruded from his shoulder blades and they slowly folded down around him like a feathery cloak as he regarded the soul-reaper in front of him.

"Abarai Renji." He spoke that strange sing-song language again. Renji did not understand it with his ears. But in his heart, the words came to him as if he knew the tongue very well. Renji back-peddled again, his hand reflexively going for the hilt of Zabimaru and a panic over came him when he realized the sword's absence. The strange dialect again: "Do not be afraid. I cannot and will not harm you. I've only come to warn you that your time with your family draws near its end."

"Who..._what_ are you?" Renji amended, taking in the daunting form, however benevolent it may seem, and the folded wings about his shoulders.

"I am Gabriel. A mere messenger. An angel sent to inform you of His plan."

"His..._His plan_? A plan to rip my wife and child from me?"

"They were not meant to be yours. It is only by a cosmic error that they came to be here in Soul Society with you."

"Has this got sumthin' ta do with that whole past-life thing?" Renji asked, incredulously, his mind finally starting to piece together some of the information.

The angel carefully tilted his head to the side at Renji's query and folded his arms over his chest. "Actually, yes. How do you know of this?"

Renji was reluctant to open his mouth now. He raked a hand back through his red mane and took a deep breath, releasing it in a strangled sigh. "Yuuki started having dreams when we first met," he admitted. "'Bout the second Great War in Europe. She...well, _we_...were pretty convinced that we knew each other from...back then. That maybe that's why we were so drawn to each other."

"You are absolutely...and startlingly correct. There is a flaw, however. The woman that...Yuuki, is it now? The woman that she _was_ was not supposed to come here at her death. Her soul's attachment to you...the man you _were_, tied the threads of your fates together."

"You mean...she followed me here by accident?"

The angel smiled suddenly, amused by Renji's blunt reply. "Essentially, yes."

"Where was she supposed ta go, then?"

"You have little knowledge of religious beliefs outside your own, I take it?"

"I read a Bible once..."

"I'm impressed. Then where do _you_ think Evelyn Yukimura was supposed to go when she died?"

"I kinda figured one heaven was as good as another..." Renji shrugged.

"Different set of beliefs," the angel assured. "Evelyn Yukimura followed in her mother's footsteps; a good Christian girl who was Baptized in the Holy Church. She had a conflict of faiths growing up with a Shinto priest as a father, but she realized her truth in the end. She had her Last Rites read to her..." The angel pointed skyward. "And now He says it's time to collect."

"I don't understand..." Renji trailed off, hot pain threatening the backs of his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't understand why it matters. If she came here...because of me...and she's happy here-"

"Then why must I take her?" Gabriel interrupted. "Those are the rules, Renji." The great fluttering wings lifted back into the air. There was a golden shimmer of atmosphere around him and he was gone.

Renji awoke with a start. His naked chest glistened with a nervous sweat and tentatively, his hand reached out for Yuuki before he dared turn his eyes her way.

His fingertips came into contact with the thin fabric of her yukata and he felt the corded muscle of her thigh shift slightly beneath his touch. There was a soft moan in the darkness but she didn't wake. Renji allowed a relieved sigh to escape his chest and he settled back down on his side; propping up on his elbow and resting his temple in his palm, he studied her sleeping form.

Her hair was longer now than he could ever remember seeing it. Still cut haphazardly and riddled with thick curls, it rested gently at the nape of her neck; it could not hide the fleshy points of her almost-human ears from peeping beneath the blond waves. She was turned slightly toward him, dark brows delicately arched and furrowed in a worried frown. Renji hoped against reason she did not dream as he dreamed. If she were to be taken from his side, he'd rather be the sole bearer of that burden.

Very nearly three months since she'd brought Yuji into the world and she'd already found her slender curves again, he thought. Her breasts still swelled from the pregnancy but her stomach was taut and her hips ever-so-slightly more rounded than before.

She was still the most beautiful creature Renji had ever laid eyes on. How cruel was fate to tease him so with this perfect woman and then rip her away? He distantly wondered how to explain Yuuki's and Yuji's sudden absence if the dreams were _not_ just dreams and the day came to pass that they vanished before his eyes.

The hot sting of tears pierced the backs of his eyes again.

Gently, he brushed his calloused palm down the length of her thigh, then back up, bringing the hem of the yukata to her hip. His eyes searched her face for wakefulness as he continued the motion, this time with his fingertips on her bare flesh.

The dragging of his rough hand over her silken flesh seemed to draw a deep sigh from her parted lips. Thick eyelashes fluttered dreamily, then pools of aquamarine gazed up at him in the darkness. "Are you alright?" she whispered, reaching out and grasping his forearm gently.

Licking his lips, Renji tasted the lie before he uttered it aloud. "Fine." It was a gruff, short reply; his voice unused from sleep, it had come out a little more abruptly than he had intended.

Yuuki lightly propped herself up on an elbow, her grasping hand sliding delicately up his toned forearm to his broad shoulder, curving over the corded muscles in the valley of his arm and neck and she fisted a handful of his flaming mane. Tugging his face gently down toward her she whispered, "_Liar_."

Any retort or denial Renji could have made was swallowed whole by her mouth as she closed the gap between them and slipped her tongue between his teeth.

Yuuki knew something was wrong, but she knew better than to force a confession from him when he was this troubled. He'd tell her in due time. She would remind him that she loved him,_ now_, without uttering a single word.

Closing his eyes against the onslaught, Renji simply leaned into her kiss, her tongue lapping at the moist heat of his and causing his worried ego to fall silent. Her curled tongue brushed across the roof of his mouth and he groaned into her, sliding his wandering hand up her thigh once more and grabbing the hem of her yukata in determined fingers. He peeled the garment to the side, slipping his fingers around the curve of her hip to cup her bottom, dragging her closer to him on the futon. She sighed against his lips and reached down herself to tug at the knotted belt at her waist. Freeing it after two quick tugs, Renji immediately threw the garment open and pulled away slightly from her to take in her form sprawled beside him.

_She really was the most beautiful creature, _he thought, a small groan escaping is throat, and a smile quirked the corner of Yuuki's mouth. She reached up again, rolling onto her back and circled her hands around his neck; drawing Renji over her prone form, she pulled his mouth back down to hers.

Moving slowly and deliberately, Renji allowed his lips to quest away from Yuuki's, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across her cheek and down her jaw; slipping to the pulse point in the curve of her neck, he lingered there, tasting the beating flesh beneath his tongue. When the reality of the moment sank in—that she was _there_ and he wasn't dreaming again—he slid his mouth further down, nipping at her collar bone and laving kisses over the tops of her breasts. Absently, his fingers tugged at the remains of her yukata, pulling it down over her arms and Yuuki released her grip from his hair so he could free her from the material entirely. It bunched mercilessly under the small of her back and Renji looped an arm around her hips and lifted her effortlessly, ripping the robe from beneath her and flinging it across the room. His attention returned immediately to her breasts; the hand that threw the offending garment grasping at one soft globe and pressing it upwards as his thumb flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the peak. Yuuki inhaled sharply when he sucked the dark nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing roughly and tongue lapping and circling the tip. Her eyes rolled back and she grabbed a fistful of red hair, holding his face to her as he nipped and licked. Sucking fiercely, Renji pulled his mouth away, the nipple exiting with a wet _pop_ and turned his attention to the other breast.

Yuuki felt her head loll back onto the futon, but all her senses were distracted by the white-hot fires that Renji evoked beneath her skin. Every where his hands touched, the calluses seemed to sear her flesh with sensation; she felt herself dripping, the fluid making her inner thighs slick and her core throbbed with anticipation. She forced her eyes to open, seeking out Renji's face in the darkness. He was nuzzling the cavern between her breasts and she felt a sudden overflow of emotion well up in her chest. As if she may never be able to experience this with him again… It brought tears to her eyes. Renji saw the pooling wetness in the aquamarine depths as he glanced up and he shifted his torso so that he was leaning over her, propped on his elbows.

"What's tha matter, Darlin'?" Concern ate at his insides, nearly overbearing the part of him that desperately just wanted to sink into her wet warmth. "Did I do sumthin'?"

"Kami, no! I…just… I love you so much," Yuuki finished in a whisper, threading her fingers into his hair and pushing the heavy mass away from his face. Her other hand came up and she pressed her fingertips to the black markings across his brow, pulling them in a downward motion through the perspiration that sheathed his skin until they ghosted over his eyes and nose, then pressed firmly against his lips. Leaning up, she pressed her mouth against his, her tongue darting out to tease his lips. "_I want you inside me…_" she whispered into his mouth and he groaned as he crashed his lips to hers, all too happy to oblige her.

Delicately, he trailed his fingers down her ribs and over the curve of her hip and down her thigh; flattening his palm against the soft flesh behind her knee, he drew her leg upwards over his own hip to better his position. Their foreheads pressed against one another, the short gasps of breath mingling between their lips, the frantic pounding of their hearts did nothing to quell the exploding sensation of Renji entering her; her slick heat parting and stretching almost painfully to accommodate his girth, the hot sting of tears threatening the backs of Yuuki's eyelids—for what reason she didn't know—and he moved against her slowly, pulling out and pushing in with such agonizing _thoroughness_ that she felt her heart was about to burst. He moved against her, grinding with his hips when he sank inside, drawing moan after moan from her as she writhed beneath his hardened form. Secretly, he was quite proud of himself, making this exquisite creature gasp his name, plead for more; Yuuki gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and distantly she knew this was the last time her husband would make love to her. She pushed the heart-breaking thought from her mind, for she had no reason to believe it was true, and let her arms be pulled from around Renji's waist to be held firmly over her head against the floor. She cried out despite herself when he pulled away to roll her over, the sudden loss of contact shattering her for a split second. Then her breasts were flattened beneath her own weight and Renji's sweat-slick body was pressed firmly against her back; his rough hands tugging her hips upward against his throbbing shaft and suddenly he was sliding inside again, stretching and filling her so that she nearly cried from the marvel of it. He rolled his hips against her bottom, stirring her and causing her to bury her face in the sheets beneath her to stifle her groan. Her muffled moans of "Renji…" caused him to quicken his pace a bit. He didn't know how long he could last if she kept that up…calling his name like a mantra—it made him harder, like some bestial part of his soul was taking over—he had to force himself to keep it slow, deliberate. Leaning closer, he planted kisses across her shoulders, nipping here and there at the bronzed skin of her back, reminding his body to take its time. He wanted to pound into her furiously, bruise them both, _damage_ her in some way that would allow her to stay with him—that no one would try to take her from him.

Yuuki's face angled up at him in worry when she felt the tears spill from his eyes and slip down the slope of her arched back. "_Renji_—"

His dark eyes pleaded with her for no questions to be asked and she understood, but she wriggled beneath him to roll herself over and after a moment, he allowed her. Bracing his face between her palms, she drew him down to her, kissing his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his cheeks where the briny liquid had streamed; reaching down between them, she gripped his still hard shaft and guided him inside her. "It's alright, Renji. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, arching her hips up and forcing him deeper. His lips parted beneath hers as if to say something but she wrapped her svelte legs around his waist and all that came out was a groan. His eyelids fluttered closed and he lost himself inside her, as she arched and used his body for leverage, pulling her hips up with the strength in her legs and suddenly he found himself burying his face in her neck and moving against her under his own power. The sensation of her tight slick heat around him was almost too much to bear and he shuddered when he felt her nimble fingers dig into the corded flesh of his backside, forcing him to grind his hips against hers. He decided he would make this last all night.

The morning sun streaming in through the bedroom window pierced his eyelids like a thousand liquid suns. He desperately didn't want to open them , but he knew there would be hell to pay if he didn't show up to Sixth on time.

One eye cracked languidly open, followed sleepily by the other, then amber orbs took in their surroundings and for a millisecond, Renji panicked. He was not in his room at the barracks. He was in that apartment that he'd rented and had forgotten for years on end, only showing up occasionally to stash junk in its convenient rooms and closets. He was lying in a rather rumpled double futon, sheets draped over his naked waist and smelling faintly of sex, and he felt the terrible nagging at the back of his mind that he had forgotten something so utterly important, the sensation nearly made him sick.

He threw the sheets from his body and rolled to his feet, glancing around the bedroom and trying to remember where he'd left his hakama. He stumbled over the tatami mats and into the small living area where he spotted his hakama hanging haphazardly from the arm of a sofa that he did not remember owning. Fastening the ties at his hips, he shuffled into the kitchenette and made for the coffee pot, distantly wondering why the coffee wasn't already made…_shouldn't it be?_ And as confused as that made him, he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye that made the breath catch in his throat.

A ghostly figure of a blond—an angelic apparition—hovered next to the futon he'd recently vacated. She smiled at him through the arch of the doorway that separated them, then dipped to the floor suddenly as if to pick something up and rose again with an infant in her arms, lifting his chubby little hand in a puppetted wave. Renji heard nothing, but watched in open-mouthed shock as the blonde's lips moved in the shape of words he recognized. _Say good-bye to Daddy, Yuji…_ and she and the baby vanished.

He didn't understand. He knew for some reason he had been happy and complete the day before. He didn't know why he was in the apartment, or why the sense of something absolutely terrible filled his heart with sadness and dread. He didn't know why there was a sofa in his living room or why he knew he should've been served his morning coffee in bed. He wondered at the absence of the smell of a fruity shampoo and the sound of a hungry infant's whimpers, though he had no idea why he should ever smell or hear those things. The distance from the counter where he stood and the dining table behind him was too great suddenly and Renji fell to his knees on the tiled floor, hot tears falling unimpeded and un-understood from his eyes. He was missing something vital. A part of his soul was no longer there and he couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew that blond and that child belonged with _him_. He _understood_ that some higher force was at work and he knew that it was just as likely that he'd actually just lost his mind. But his mind wasn't in his heart and right then it felt as though that very important organ was being wrenched in a vice beneath his ribs. He climbed to his feet and supporting himself on the doorframe of the bedroom, he scanned the contents for some evidence that he wasn't acutely insane. Other than the arrangement of the room itself, nothing stood out. It all belonged to him. Nothing otherworldly or unusual. Until he turned to head toward the living room and caught his toe on something he was painfully aware had not been there seconds ago. Bending to retrieve it, he lifted the simple gold band to eye level and studied it with growing awareness and unabated emotion. Slowly, he raised his left hand to his face and turned it over, studying the matching gold band on his ring finger, tears flowing again, relentless, down his cheeks.

He slid the smaller ring onto his pinkie next to his own ring and finally he thought his heart shattered in the confines of his chest. Nothing was clear to him yet. Nothing may ever be clear to him again, he mused, heading back to the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He ambled to the sofa and reaching out to the wall next to it, drew the guitar that had been propped there into his lap. Setting the steaming mug down, he closed his eyes and strummed a few chords, picturing that gorgeous blond he couldn't quite recall behind his eyelids. His voice cracked, but he hummed a note, and picking out the saddest tune he knew on the guitar, Renji sang.

"_The sky is cryin'…_

"_Can't ya see the tears roll down the street?"_


End file.
